


A Safe Haven

by thejeeperswife



Series: The Fire In Your Eyes [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Blood Mage no Seisen | Dragon Age: Dawn of the Seeker, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Overcoming Struggles, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Lyrium Cullen, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 116,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife
Summary: A personal invitation from Divine Justinia and a sealed Circle file?  Evelyn Trevelyan was as much an enigma as the glowing mark on her hand to Leliana.  Cassandra believed her family influenced her special position at the Conclave, much like they garnered respect and fear in the Chantry and the Templar Order.  The noble family’s exclusive lyrium shipping rights across the Waking Sea awed Josephine.  Cullen figured their new Herald of Andraste was a just fragile, snobby Circle mage.  Her cooperation was vital if the Inquisition wished to seal the Breach.Who they got was Enchanter Evie Trevelyan, an overly sarcastic, easily angered fire mage who mistrusts the advisors as much as herself.  Their new ‘Herald of Andraste’ swayed between an inspirational icon and a weeping, broken woman.  As the mage and the Inquisition discover their new roles in chaotic Thedas, everyone’s pasts creep into the picture.  More is there than meets the eye.  Can the Inquisition protect their Herald from assassins, conflicting mages and templars, and each other?  The Inquisition and its leaders must be her safe haven.Story Theme Song:  “Set Me on Fire” by FlyleafCullen & Evie Theme:  "Even If It Hurts" by Sam Tinnesz





	1. Noble Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse poor grammar. I do not have a beta at the moment. I can read this a thousand times and still not catch everything. 
> 
> "-------" denotes change of scene or perspective
> 
> Chapter Song: "First Wave" by Trocadero  
> I like to give "theme" songs to my writing, so some chapters have music that inspired me while I wrote. If you have a song that might fit with the narrative, please comment! I love listening to new music I didn't know before.
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Cold metal, warm embrace.

Evie cautiously opened her eyes, trying to focus through the haze.  The black environment was only broken by an obscured face, looking down at her as she swayed in the person’s arms.  “Rian?”

“Do not worry.  I am your safe haven.” A male husky voice stated from the person holding her. 

“You always are…”  Her voice was soft, barely a whisper.  As much as Evie squinted, she could not assess any facial details.

“No harm will come to you, I promise.”  The hazy face proclaimed, assuring her with a gentle smile.

Tear welled up in Evie’s eyes, thankful for his support.  He was protecting her like he always had.  She sighed, relieved to hear his voice and feel his warmth as he carried her.  “I’m so frightened-“

 _"-you should be!”_   A booming voice shrieked from the dark abyss.

Evie felt the warm arms give way beneath her as she landed with a _thud_ against rocks and debris.  The dark surroundings shifted to bright yellows and reds.  Her face flushed from the dancing flames engulfing her world as she glanced in all directions.  All assurance subsided as panic and guilt overwhelmed her senses.  She stumbled to her feet, nearly pitching forward into the fire.

“ _I knew you were no better!  I knew damnation will fall on anyone who crossed your path!”_   Evie covered her ears, shaking her head as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“No!  I-I am not-!”

" _Open your eyes, craven!  See for yourself your wrath!_ ”  Evie could not control her reaction as her eyes flashed open.  Both hands covered her mouth as she screamed in horror.

The engulfing flames consumed a crumbling Chantry upon a hill.  Women, children, and armor knights were scattered across the rocks as ash fell from the sky.  Blood pooled at her bare feet.  Evie removed her hands from her mouth as a dagger rolled from her grasp.  Blood poured from her fingertips as she saw her reflection in its red shimmer.  It was not her face, but a flaming rage demon shrieking back.

“NO!”

Evie jolted forward as flames spurted from the cabin’s fireplace to her left.  Sweat ran down her temples as she immediately grasped her chest, panting in shock.

“Oh!”

“AH!” Evie screamed, kicking her legs and bunching her knees upwards as she scrambled towards the bed’s headboard.  Her eyes shifted to the box on the floor before her, following the shout to a short elven woman, covering her own mouth.  Confusion overwhelmed her senses as she glanced frantically to her cabin surroundings.  A winter breeze wafted from a nearby window, cooling her flustered face.  Evie continued to pant, but slowly regained her composure.

 “I-I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!  That’s wrong.  I mean.  I said the wrong thing.” The elf called, realizing she alarmed the woman.

Evie squeezed her eyes closed, breathing in the cold air through her mouth, welcoming its crispness into her lungs.  “Don’t worry about it.  I only-“

The elf fell to her knees behind the overturned box.  “-I beg your forgiveness and your blessing.  I am but a humble servant.  You are back in Haven, my lady.”  Evie’s eyes flashed open at the word _haven_.  A wave of emotions slowly crawled forward as the panic and guilt retreated back into the dark corners of her mind.

The servant continued, rocking on her knees as she pressed her head against the cabin’s floorboards.  “They say you saved us.  The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.  It’s all anyone has talked about the last three days.”

It was as if her left hand heard the elf’s words, sparking to life as Evie relaxed her fist and glanced at the bright green gash upon her palm.  Evie winced as a twitch of pain from the mark rolled up her arm.  Evie stared forward, processing what it all meant.  Allowing her hand to return to the bed, she sighed, “So you’re saying…they’re _happy_ with me?”

“The Breach is still in the sky, but I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’re wake.  She said, ‘at once.’”  The elf stated, gaining some courage to return to her feet.  Although, her body language demonstrated she was still skittish as the elf backed towards the cabin door.

A new wave of panic pressed on Evie’s chest.  “And where is she?”

By now, the elf was by the door about to run outside.  “In the chantry.  ‘At once,’ she said.”  Before Evie could say another word the elf slammed the door shut behind her.

Evie weaved to and fro as her vision became blurry again.  She reached out her left hand to stabilize herself against the mattress, but instead rolled over the bed’s edge onto the floor.  Evie could not contain the fear and panic overwhelming her again as she tucked her legs underneath her.  Evie frantically touched her forehead, expecting to feel something there.  The green gash again flashed, causing the fireplace’s flames to roar as if a new log had been thrown in.  As the woman could do is lean forward into a fetal position.  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the sobs released the fright from her shaking body.

\-------

“Adan and I have done all what we can for the Herald.”  Solas stated, studying at the four people before him.  “We believe the worst is over and that she may wake in the next few hours.”

“Thank you, Solas.” Cassandra sighed, nodding for the apothecary and the elven apostate they were dismissed.

Josephine’s eyes fluttered as she rested her hand to her chest.  “The Herald we be well.  Thank the Maker.”

“I had no doubt.”  Cassandra’s voice was flat as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Leliana nodded.  “It took me all this time to even find her name among the Conclave lists.”

“Shouldn’t it been with the check-in information?” Cullen questioned, one brow raised, wondering how the spymaster struggled with such a menial task.  “It would have been with the security clearance we oversaw.”

Leliana shook her head.  “I was surprised it wasn’t.  I started to suspect she had given us a false name.”

“No, she is Evelyn Trevelyan.” Cassandra hissed.  Josephine and Cullen threw the seeker a look, waiting for an explanation, but Cassandra ignored their faces.

“Well, I did find it after looking at the one list not included at the check-in—the Divine’s personal invitations.” Leliana studied Cassandra, shuffling through years of body language training to understand the seeker’s shortness, particularly if she contained information pertinent to the discussion.

“Divine Justinia personally invited her to the Conclave?” Josephine cooed, her hand still pressed against her blouse ruffles.

“No doubt because of her family’s influence.” Cassandra’s voice only deepened as her lip twitched.

“I personally know members of House Trevelyan.” Josephine chimed in.  “Their mining and shipping enterprise is known throughout southern Thedas.  Their fleet is exclusively permitted to transport lyrium for the Chantry, but that rarely warrants a personal invitation…?”

“It played a part.”  Leliana confirmed, noting Cullen’s grimace.  “Based on the invitation copy, the Divine wished her presence to be an example as a neutral mage born to a family of devote Andrastians, who have generations of templars and cleric that served the Chantry.”

“Wouldn’t that cause the rebel mages to resent her?”  Cullen asked.

“Apparently, her experiences at the Ostwick Circle were more akin to the mage rebellion.” Leliana’s eyes glanced to each person, impressing each expression to memory.  “However, when I went to investigate further, I discovered her Circle file was sealed.  The copy at Ostwick burned when the Circle fell, while White Spire required the Divine’s written permission.”

“Maker…” Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I have never heard of a divine having direct control of a mage’s information.  Even when the Order fully supported the Chantry, the superiors would not allow a single mage’s information off limits to even their eyes.”

“In any case,” Cassandra interjected, her thick Nevarran accent echoing throughout the Chantry hall.  “She is the only one capable of closing the Breach.  Her cooperation is required to close it.”

“She has been a willing participant already.” Leliana reminded the group.  “You stated yourself, Cassandra, that she safe-guarded you, Varric, and Solas as you travelled the mountain pass, saving my scouting patrol.  You remarked, Cullen, she place herself in front of a lesser terror to protect your men when that rift appear in front of the Temple entrance.  I do not see why she would not aid us now.”

“Lady Cassandra!”

All four advisors turned as an elven woman threw open the Chantry door.  “The Herald…she’s awake!”

Cassandra nodded, acknowledging the woman.  “Well, it seems we will know soon enough.”

A figure approached from behind the four advisors from the cellars clothed in chantry robes, his face beaming with anticipation.  “Ah!  Then the prisoner can be transported to Val Royeaux this afternoon.  Good!  Knight-Commander, can you have the templars arrange a cart so she can be chained to it?”

“I am no longer a templar, and thus I will not do as you ask.” Cullen hissed.  “Furthermore, I must return to my troops.  If you excuse me…”  The commander quickly made his exit before the Chantry bureaucrat could say another word.

“May I suggest we hold such meetings in the back room from this point onwards?  Alas, I must attend to some negotiations regarding aid.  Good day.” Josephine sang, recognizing when even her diplomatic prowess could not stave off an argument.

Leliana pivoted one foot, keeping a composed face as the older Chantry cleric walked towards the Left and Right Hands of the Divine.  Cassandra winced and grunted under her breath.  “Lord Chancellor Roderick, no bureaucrat-“

Leliana intervened before Cassandra could insult the man, although she shared the same sentiments.  “Perhaps we can retire to the back room to discuss this matter…?”

\-------

The Chantry’s green door rattled as Evie quickly shut it close, leaning against the wood for support and absorbed what just transpired.  She had interpreted the elven woman’s demeanor as fear, especially since she was a mage, but Evie never imagined seeing crowds on either side of Haven’s paths, praising her success and divine purpose.   Only three days before, those same villagers and pilgrims clamored for her execution.  Oh, how quickly their minds and hearts could shift!

It was true the mage agreed to assist Seeker Cassandra to close the Breach.  Any decent person who have done whatever possible to avoid the end of the world, but calling her blessed by Andraste herself?!  Evie’s faith had been tested multiple times throughout her life.  Still, she prayed to the Maker daily, but to be marked by the Maker’s Bride was preposterous.  If the Ostwick Circle’s revered mother heard such nonsense, she would have died from sheer laughter, if not by the initial shock.  Something must have happened between randomly thrusting her hand at a glowing green hole in the torn Veil and waking that midday.  Did she bring a decease soldier back to life?  Had the mage eradicated all of Thedas’ darkspawn?

Evie allowed a cooling spell tingle her fingertips and rubbed her temples.  Her eyes bugged out as she shifted through her hazy memory for an explanation.  She flinched as the green gash on her hand sparked with her magical use nearly blinding her right eye.  Evie needed to get a grip on herself before preceding further.  As much as the mage wanted to run for the hills, her curiosity outweighed her terror.  Luckily, the Chantry hall was empty and quiet.  The path forward was dimly lit by the several candle sconces.  A low mutter echoed off the rock walls and pillars from the nave’s other end as she steadied her breathing.  Her heart retreated back into her chest as the mage utilized her years of magical training to control her gift.  The gash slowly fazed to a soft glow, no longer making her lungs feel like someone kept electrocuting her.

Once composed, Evie stepped forward, straightening her back and lifting her chin upwards as if she carried several tomes upon her head.  Oh, how her mother would be proud she could balance five volumes on the history of Orlais without her neck breaking under the weight.  Her boot heels clicked against the stone stab floor with each graceful movement forward.  Evie must find the person gracious enough to provide a wash bin and a clean blouse and leather leggings so she could dispose of her ruined Circle robes.  She rushed to rebraid her auburn hair after wiping herself down so the seeker could not claimed she looked like a mass murderer.  Thank the Maker she had washed or all of Haven would have dragged her to the hangman’s noose.

It did not mean she had escaped it.

The hall’s murmurs shifted to two distinct voices, shouting at each other from the far room.  Evie knew both voices and knew she was living on borrowed time.  One voice had assured her there would be at least a trail, while the other demanded her to be taken to the Orlesian capital immediately for execution.  From the shouting, it seemed that their minds had not changed.  A lump in the mage’s throat restricted her breathing as Evie’s heart quickened again as she stopped and listen to the yelling on the other side of the door.

“…Have you gone completely mad!?  She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes divine!” The rough and cocky male voice demanded.

“I do not believe she is guilty.”

Fear and confusion overwhelmed the mage’s thoughts, processing the statement.  She knew that thick Nevarran accent out of any voice.  She knew its boom as it placed an auditory period after each sentence.  Although Evie had only been in her company for a short time before reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes, her speech would be burned into her memory much like her name had been all those years before.  However, instead of waking and being thrashed around by the seeker, the tan-skinned Right Hand of the Divine was defending her.  Surely, Evie was still dreaming.

The mage shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut regretting her thought.  Her cheeks still burned as she still felt the inferno around her in the crumbling chantry.  Evie’s right hand gripped her lips, praying the acid in her throat would return to her stomach.

“The prisoner failed, Seeker.  The Breach is still in the sky.  For all you know, she intended it this way.”

Burning heat.  Screaming bodies solidified into rocks like cooling lava, statues in a disturbing and morbid garden.  A crater and red glowing spikes all that remained of the holy site. 

Evie’s vision blurred as panic rushed forward like a heat wave.  The green gash sparked alive again as Evie searched every dark corner of her brain for reassurance she had not caused the explosion.  Had she wanted that, not to close the Breach?  Was her intent after killing the Divine and destroying the Conclave to bring about the end of the world?!  No memory, no sense of rhyme or reason, no other explanation-

“I do not believe that.”

Evie’s hand dropped from her lips as the green gash subsided.  What?  The seeker defended her?  After knowing so much about her?   She accused the mage the whole trip climbing the Pilgrim’s Paths.  Evie grasped the door’s ring and threw it open to see if it was all a hoax.  Leliana, Cassandra, and Chancellor Roderick all twirled to see the mage’s bewildered face as she frantically tried to gauge the situation.

Chancellor Roderick immediately pointed at her; his face wrinkling at the sight of her.  “Chain her!  I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!”

Evie’s scanning eyes noticed as candlelight flicked off metal.  Two templars appeared from either side of the door to reprimand her.  A flash of flames appeared in either hands, preparing to defend herself.  She knew it!  She knew they tricked her!

“-Disregard that, and leave us.” Cassandra ordered, noticing the mage’s hands.  Her eyes stared into Evie’s soul as if casting a silence spell over her ability.  Both Templars nodded, saluted and walked away, barely brushing the mage as she stayed frozen as if caught in an ice wall.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Roderick grumbled as the seeker motioned to the mage to enter.  Evie’s stance wobbled before she regained her senses.  Although the templars continued to clack down the Chantry hall, her hands laid open at her sides, ready for an ambush.

“The Breach is stable, but is still a threat.  I will not ignore it.”  Cassandra’s dark eyes never left Evie’s face as the mage reach the war table’s edge.  Her hands laid under its wooden edge and out of sight, while her eyes shifted at each face for any sign of altercation.

“So, I _am_ still a suspect, even after what we just did?!” Evie hissed, knowing all intuition held true.  “I did everything I could to close the Breach.  It almost killed me!”

“You absolutely are.” Roderick hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.  Evie compared the act to a peacock whose tail feathers were plucked out while he slept.  The chancellor did not frighten her as a person.  It was what he stood for, a floundering religious state that did everything to suppress mages. 

Evie allowed her displeasure reflect in her face, while struggling to hide her inner fear.  The moment she met the man on the Pilgrim’s Path, she knew he was like a fly, annoying and repulsive.  He ordered Cassandra to retreat and arrest the mage, while green fire balls streaked across the sky.  He was more concern with executing his boogeyman and saving his own skin than providing realistic counsel to the Left and Right Hands of the Divine or soothing the dying that lined the bridge.

“No, she is not.” Cassandra corrected the fly.  No matter her history with the seeker, Evie respected the woman as a warrior and true representative of what the Chantry _should_ be.

The Left Hand of the Divine approached behind Cassandra, directing her disgust towards the single-minded clergyman.  “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave.  Someone most Holy did not expect.  Perhaps they died with the others—or have allies who yet live.”  Evie swallowed the little spit in her mouth as acid lingered in her throat.  Despite the red head’s accusation towards the chancellor, Evie also applied to that same statement.

“ _I_ am a suspect?” Roderick stammered as his once wrinkled face shifted to one of dismay.

“You, and many others.” Leliana confirmed; her blue eyes shimmered like ice spikes at the started man.

“But _not_ the prisoner.” Roderick spat in Evie’s direction.

 _Yes, but not me?_ Evie wondered, keeping her face of displeasure as her mind tried to process her newfound innocence.

“I heard the voices in the temple.  The Divine called to her for help.” Cassandra informed the chancellor.

“So her survival, that thing on her hand—all a coincidence?”

“Providence.  The Marker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

“Are you serious?!  Five minutes ago, you wanted me dead, and now I’m your savior?” Evie hollered, flabbergasted by the notion.

“I was wrong.  Perhaps I still am.  I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.”  Cassandra hissed back.

“The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.” Leliana reminded the stunned mage as she stumbled backwards.  Cassandra had turned away from the group towards a back table.

“This is not for you to decide…” Roderick huffed, shoving his chest out reconfirming Evie’s analogy of a peacock with no tail to flaunt. 

Before Evie could comprehend the shift in events and opinions, Cassandra slammed a thick, bound book against the war table, pointing at the sunburst cover with her gloved hand.  “You know what this is, Chancellor.  A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.  As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”  Cassandra stooped forward towards the chancellor, now resembling a frighten chicken being hunted by a black wolf.   Although his face never faltered, Evie’s nose twitched at the sudden smell of urine.  “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order.  With or without your approval.”

Lord Chancellor Roderick’s eyes silted as he threw glares at both Hands.  He huffed one last time as he hit his shoulder against the grinning mage and scuffed out of the backroom.  Evie contained her urge to suggest the clergyman to change is small clothes before going back out in the cold.  He would not want them frozen to his arse when he went to retrieve his head.

The wooden door slammed behind Evie, wiping her smirk from her lips as Cassandra stumbled around in a circle and rubbed the back of her head.  The hooded, red head stepped forward, glancing down at the book.  Evie followed her gaze, studying the sunburst insignia on its cover.  Leliana’s eyes shifted to Evie, who resembled a fish out of water.  “This is the Divine’s directive:  rebuild the Inquisition of old.  Find those who will fight against chaos.  We aren’t ready.  We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice:  we must act now.”  Cassandra’s gaze turned to Evie steadying herself against the wooden table.  “With you at our side.”

Evie’s eyes flashed upwards, frantic and confused.  “Me?!  You want to resurrect an order of zealots who spread faith with a sword!”

“They _were_ people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.  Once done, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order.  But the templars have lost their way.  We need those who can do what must be done united a single banner once more.”

“My point exactly!  You trying to start a holy war!  An exalted march!?” Evie accused; her face flushing at the consequences of their declaration.

“We are already at war.  You are already involved.  Its mark is upon you.”  Cassandra pointed at Evie’s gashed hand.  “As to whether the war is holy…that depends on what we discover.”

“What if I refuse?” Evie stood her ground.  She knew Thedas’ history and what became of its people on the other side of a holy sword. She wanted no part of that bloodshed.

Leliana’s voice was low and without feeling.  “You can go, if you wish.”

Evie shifted her weight to exit the room, wanting to get out of Haven as quickly as possible.  The Nevarran’s accent froze her in place.  “You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty.”

 _She lied.  The fucking bitch lied,_ Evie screamed in her mind.  Once again, she had allowed her defenses to drop and be absorbed in a false sense of belief.  Evie threw her gaze back at the seeker, eyes burning with rage.  “You still think I’m guilty, you mean.”

Cassandra gritted your teeth.  “I just defended you to a Chantry high cleric, and you glare at me!  Do you not remember what we all saw at the Temple?!”

Evie bit her lip.  “You and I both know, Seeker, that the Fade is a reflection of memories.  Memories are bias, reflective of those who have them.  I have no memory of that event, so I cannot be certain that I did not cause the explosion.  I also have no memory that says I did.  However, I know myself and would not wish the death of thousands of people, unlike _you_.  You have more than voiced before this exchange that I should be damned to the gallows.”

Cassandra jetted forward, as Leliana grabbed her breastplate to still the seeker.  The woman placed herself between the two women about to become violent.  “The Inquisition can only protect you, if you are with us.  We can also help _you_.  Maybe placing your own mind at ease?”

Evie was the first to step back.  Cassandra did the same, muttering, “It will not be easy if you stay, but you cannot pretend this has not changed you.”

Evie’s eyes fell away.  Her thumb rubbed over the green mark in her palm as she reminded herself to why she was at the Conclave in the first place.  “When I woke up, I certainly didn’t picture this outcome.”

“Neither did we.” Leliana replied.

“If you’re truly trying to restore order…”

“That is the plan.”

Leliana stepped to the side as Cassandra overreached her right hand.  “Help us fix this before it’s too late.”

Evie grasped the outstretched offer with her marked hand, shaking it in agreement.  The mage nodded, and let go, before stepping back and heading towards the door.  “I will do my part, however large or small.  I will leave you two to discuss the details.  Until later…”

Leliana noted Evie’s flushed cheeks and bit lip as she slowly closed the door behind her.  Both Hands of the Divine waited for a few moments as the mage’s boots clicked against the hall’s stone floor, muffling as distance separated them.  Leliana shook her head, eying the warrior at her side.  “What was that about?”  Her Orlesian accent pecked her displeasure about what transpired.

Cassandra rolled her eyes.  “Nothing…”

“My nug would not even believe that.” Leliana remarked, crossing her arms over her chest.  “You know more than you let on.  As the spymaster, I must know any intelligence to protect our cause.”

Cassandra sighed, resting her gloved hands on her hips.  Her dark brown eyes burned into the table as she began to speak.  “When I was the Right Hand of Divine Beatrix, the Trevelyan Family demanded I investigate atrocities inflicted upon Evelyn.  I refused, stating that I would not bow to a noble family who threatened to hold the lyrium trade routes over the Waking Sea hostage.  Divine Beatrix asked for me to at least recommend a seeker in my stead to stave off the family’s wrath.  I suggested my former apprentice, Daniel.”

“What atrocities?” Leliana questioned.

“I do not know.” Cassandra replied finally meeting Leliana’s stare.  “It ultimately caused a great deal of tension between the Templar superiors and the Grand Cathedral.  I am not surprised that you discovered her file was sealed, most likely done so in the investigation’s fall out.  It is a time where a noble family had more sway than the Sunbrust Throne, and it sickens me.  House Trevelyan might be a minor noble house in the Free Marchs, but their influence is as powerful as ours, Leliana.  When news reaches them that their daughter is taking part in the Inquisition, they will stop at nothing to control us.”

“Unless, we act first.” Leliana stated.  “She is being called the ‘Herald of Andraste.’  Her family is very devout.  Multiple members have been part of the Order.  I suspect there might be some contention there for having a mage daughter, especially one that the Chantry is calling a murderer.  Furthermore, I understand she is the child of the bann’s _second_ marriage.  Rumors circulated at her birth that she was conceived out of wedlock.  We assure her family that they may contribute to our cause at a distance, while we promote her blessed mark as the Maker’s will and fight the preconception she is a murderer.” 

“Until I have further information on what that file contains, we are at a disadvantage.  However, the family will not want scandal to befall their house, particularly on her mother.  It is horrible enough that their daughter is hailed as the Divine’s murderer.  They will use the Herald’s new blessed fame as redemption for producing a bastard mage, while we utilize the Herald’s own guilty conscious to keep her in our fold.  You scare her, Cassandra.  It is only after I assured her we could help her from the magnitude of people holding her responsible for the Divine’s death did she become more receptive to assist us.”

“No doubt to avoid the notion that all mages are malcontents.”  Cassandra concluded.  “Too many had tried to assassinate the Divine already.  I will work with her to keep an eye on her ‘guilty conscience’ and maybe discover what I evidently declined a decade ago.”

“We cannot let the populace know she holds herself accountable.” Leliana warned.  “Whatever happened during that time, it haunts her.  If anyone suspects she believes she destroyed the Conclave, it will be the Inquisition who will suffer the most.  Instead of order, we will only flame the chaos swallowing Thedas.  Befriend her, Cassandra.  Demonstrate to the people that if the Right Hand of the Divine believes in her blessed crusade, they should too.”


	2. Watch What You Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse poor grammar. I do not have a beta at the moment. I can read this a thousand times and still not catch everything.
> 
> "-------" denotes change of scene or perspective
> 
> Chapter Song: "High Hopes" by Pink Floyd
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Cullen emerged from his tent, pinching the bridge of his nose as his hands tremored.  He wished his stomach would settle.  The taste of vomit lingered in his mouth, reminiscent of the days after drinking at the Hanged Man with his fellow templars.  The man grumbled as the memory reminded him of the Gallows barrack’s smell.  He needed to empty his trash before the acid stench solidified into the tent’s canvas.

The crisp mountain wind was much more tempting than discarding the stomach waste in the privy at the moment. The refreshing breeze cooled the knight’s skin as his body readjusted from his nightmare.  He forgone his mantle coat, but opted for his armor, a layer of familiarity to ease his built tension.

As his amber eyes slowly opened, Cullen’s vision adjusted to the late night’s darkness with its faint green haze as the Breach crackled above the village. He muttered under his breath; a prayer to the Maker for the migraine forming to subside.  He must prepare for the Inquisition’s formal announcement that morning and their first initial meeting with the Herald afterwards.  He survived before on little sleep, utilizing the additional waking hours to work on clearing any paperwork remaining before overseeing the remaining troops that survived the Breach’s onslaught. 

However, the Inquisition’s open declaration would increase the commander’s workload considerably.  Nothing he could not handle, especially after Kirkwall.  The duty was substantially different from his years in the templars.  Cullen was out of the Chantry’s grasp and working with people who had not trained to fight abominations since childhood.  He must be sharp and tactical, never wavering.  It meant sleep would become essential to the mission’s success, his success.

A ball of light flicked at the edge of his vision.  Cullen studied himself, focusing his senses.  It may be halos his migraines created in his vision.  However, as he looked over the frozen lake towards the Breach, the flickering light waved over the tree line as if the ridge caught fire.  Potential scenarios raced through his mind.  Wildfire?  Rage abomination?  Rift?

The commander jogged towards the large rock jetting over an abandoned cabin, hoping to gain a better vantage point.  As he shimmied up the rock face, he noticed it was a localized series of blasts within the trees.  Faintly, he heard druffalo moos and huff stoops as they raced across the mountain side towards the flickering fire.

“An apostate no less…” The blonde, curly haired man muttered.  “Maker, the mage thinks he can take on a herd of druffalo by himself.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck as glanced around for a nearby patrol.  Four infantrymen passed his tent before he emerged, most likely moving beyond the smithy at this point, thus out of reach.  The ex-templar nodded, jumping down from the rock and jogging to his tent.  “I might as well handle it myself…”

Emerging from his tent with his sword and shield, Cullen began walking toward the flickering fire, seeing that it had died down in intensity, meaning the mage either was running out of mana or was almost overwhelm by the wild herd.  He quickened his step and circled around the lake.  He passed the old log fence to see if he could flank the herd and avoid being trampled.  The memory of saving toddler Branson from the family druffalo came to mind when he was seven.  That encountered with the huge beasts left him with a broken arm and a few bruised ribs.

Cullen approached with caution as he crested the last hill, finding he was behind the mage clade in newly minted Inquisition light armor.  This meant the mage was a very new recruit, possibly a mage who stayed in Haven during the Conclave and joined once the Herald agreed to assist against the Breach yesterday.  Harritt and his strikers smithed into the night, preparing armor for the announcement ceremony.  He watched the caster dance like an Orlesian courtier at a ball; their staff twirling and smacking the snow as they threw fire balls as a druffalo prepared to charge forward.  It was limping and ablaze, but its face was fierce.  The commander did not want to startle the mage, trying to make some noise with his templar shield.  Alas, the recruit was too concentrated on the druffalo, casting a barrier and bracing for the charge.

The druffalo wheezed as it reared on its hind legs and jolted forward.  The mage hollered a battle cry like an Avvar.  Her voice cracking as the druffalo butted its head against the barrier, sliding the mage backwards.  She finally side stepped, throwing a _blister pain_ as the beast continued its charge away.  As it hollered in fright, the mage raced forward, driving the staff’s blade end into its head, the final blow to a long fight.

The recruit panted and dripped with sweat.  Her hood had fallen sometime in the fight allowing the mountain winds pull at curls from her auburn braids.  Cullen swallowed, studying the figure standing on top the wild beast.  Should he announce himself?  Just back away? 

A single huff escaped the animal.  The recruit did not notice.  Cullen emerged out of the tree line with his shield and sword ready.  The mage reacted, tossing an immolate spell at the area in front of him.  Muscle memory kicked in as Cullen threw the shield in front of his body and face preparing to direct the flames down and away.  As the blast exploded, he dispelled the spell to avoid the full blunt of the inferno’s blast.

“Maker’s arse!” The mage hollered, jumping down from the dead druffalo’s head.  “I am so sorry!”  Cullen wheezed and coughed as ash and snow dusted the air, masking his vision.  He lowered his shield to wave the ash away.  The mage ran up to him, changing her flaming hand to a soft healing spell.  “Hold still.  You might be concussed.”

Cullen waved off the mage.  His field-of-view cleared as bright green eyes gleamed up at him with a matching green mark across her left hand.  “I am fine, Herald.”

The mage slowed her step, registering that the ex-templar knew who she was.  “Oh…Any pain?  Do you require a healing draught or I may heal you with a spell?  I have suffice mana remaining.”

Cullen shook his head no, sheathing his sword and fastened his shield on his back.  The Herald had offered the same basic health needs the day she closed the Breach.  A rift burst open as he and his troops were acting as a distraction, while the prisoner’s group traveled the mountain path.  Instead of utilizing opportunity, she jumped up and over the wall at the entrance of the Temple.  The prisoner threw a barrier across three soldiers as a lesser terror emerged from underneath them.  The demon tossed the soldiers back, but she was rattled by its shriek.  Once it hushed, she toss a immolate spell at its feet and hit its chest with the blunt end of her staff.  It disappeared into ash, although she ignored the success.  She ran forward, tossed her glowing hand in the air and closed the rift.  The threat was gone in just a few moments.  Cullen noticed her ears were bleeding from the shriek and her legs wobbled, suggesting her equilibrium was also impacted. 

The Herald’s concentration was on everyone else, but herself.  She was a mess after closing the Breach and passing out in front of Cassandra.  Leliana raced to his position, requiring his assistance again to carry her to the forward camp for emergency medical attention.  He could tell by carrying her she sustained several major injuries:  three cracked ribs, a sprained wrist, and a major blunt blow to her back.  He only noticed her back because she groaned as he jogged out of the Temple, bumping the bruise with his templar gauntlets.

That morning was no different.  Her right cheek swelled from a blow to the face, most likely from a druffalo horn.  Her upper left arm not covered by the armor’s gloves was gashed open.  She favored her right leg, likely a blow to her thigh.

“There is no need, Herald.” Cullen replied, waving his hand at her.  “However, I would suggest you use your mana to heal yourself.”

Evie glanced down at herself, shrugging.  “Why?  I need to toughen up.  While fighting the rifts, I realized my body was too flabby and skinny from living in the circle.  My brother would be so ashamed that I let myself go all those years.  If I am to fight demons and close rifts, I will receive hits, might as well get used to it.  I thought you of all people would approve.”

Cullen sighed.  “It will be best to avoid injury completely.  As the only person who can close rifts, you cannot be laid up to recuperate after each skirmish, no matter the size.”

Evie grimaced, staring at the snow between them.  “Duly noted, Ser Templar.”

Cullen was about to correct her regarding his identity when she turned away, reaching for a dagger in her belt loop.  She approached the dead druffalo, kneeling by its belly and made an initial incision.  Startled, the commander forgot his thought, “Herald, what are you doing?”

The woman did not lift her head, only bobbed a little as she sawed into its gut.  “I am cleaning the kill.  Harritt stated he was low on skins, so I decided to come out and hunt before the announcement.   Flissa can use the meat in the tavern.  Several refugees looked like they subsided on only bread and water for a months, displaying signs of malnutrition.  They need meat, which can be difficult to come by out here without proper supply lines.” 

The mage nodded towards the tree line behind him.  “If you do not mind, can you retrieve the bag behind you?  I have a satchel full of elfroot to give Adan.  His supply is low.  The mountain side bursts with the herb, if a person is willing to brave the lingering demons and wildlife.  It will be essential to heal the remaining soldiers injured during the initial Breach invasion.” 

Evie chuckled, pulling out the animal’s stomach with a tug.  “You can attempt to pick up the sack beside it.  It will be _very_ heavy.  Threnn might think I have gone overboard with my iron seam testing.  I always heard the Frostbacks were a good source.  Having some good seams so easily accessible will help the Inquisition immensely to outfit the new recruits that might respond to our call.  I saw the notification that you templars cleared the mine, but found it in a state of decay.  Shame too because some of the refugees would have be willing to work it for some coin.  Although, that Chantry sister did not hide her urge to eradicate any existence of those ‘Disciplines of Andraste.’  Meanwhile, that damn racist Seggrit is fleecing the poor people.  Her time could be spent seeking other more humble vendors.  However, no other merchants dare to come to Haven, so I must keep my mouth shut about his ‘knife-ear’ remarks.”

Her green eyes glanced up at the man who remained silent during her rant.  “I will do whatever I possibly can…anything to improve Haven people’s lives because of this great atrocity and stupid, bloody war…”

Cullen’s mouth was dry, and words escaped him.  Her eyes glimmered like a burning candle, speaking its own chant of unspoken vows.  Her statement was directed at him, under her false belief he was still a templar.  Basically, if Haven’s templars were going to fight her because she was a mage, they could leave.  Her presence with the Inquisition was to assist those impacted by the battles, and right wrongs others ignored.  Her stream of observations and actions were proof that she did not align with either side.

Cullen mentally noted each discovery and remark.  Her observations and personal investment to resolve problems will be beneficial at the war table.  He previously believed she would be too sheltered and snobby; his prejudice concerning a noble-born mage with the Divine’s ear.  It seemed they were unwarranted.  Evelyn Trevelyan was observant and practical, a woman willing to dirty her hands and place herself in danger for the sake of those who are defenseless.  Her quick assessment of the surrounding area’s ironworks reminded the commander that her family specialized in mining and trade.  She acknowledged the refugee’s plight in both the need for coin and food, not placing herself above the common people, particularly elves.  During their afternoon meeting yesterday, Cassandra stated that it may be best to have the mage visit and speak to Haven’s services.  The Herald must have, and she acted quickly to alleviate the village’s burdens.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but…how do you know how to hunt and skin an animal?” Cullen questioned, watching as she let the druffalo’s blood drain from an artery in its throat.

“Do not worry, Ser.  I am no blood mage.” Evie assured, nodding her head to the commander.  “My father loves to bear hunt.  In my youth, I would join and play with the dogs, while riding with him on horseback.  I greatly appreciate those moments because I would have starved after the Circles fell, and I traveled to Ferelden.  There is plenty of game here, if you are quick on the kill.  I was stupid, though, to go after these druffalo.  These wild beast are nothing like their farm cousins…”

Cullen nodded in agreement.  “I saw yours casts from across the lake.”  His voice turned stern.  “I would advise limiting your abilities in or around Haven.  Many people acquaint magic to the rebellion, and it will scare the inhabitants.”

Evie stood up, head down, recognizing him as an overseer.  “Understood, Ser.”  Her manner changed like a candle blown out in a large gust.  The glimmer in her eyes turned dim and glazed over.  Any air of confidence she had moment before drifted away like smoke.  “B-being alone in the forests for these last months, I used my magic to survive without much contact with large populations.  I have no skill in the bow or sword or would have opted for a more conventional hunting weapon.  My deepest apologizes and understand any repercussions I may face.”

Cullen’s mouth gapped as he equated her behavior to a mage under his charge.  She was the Herald of Andraste, but she expected to be watched critically like she was in a Circle.  “Herald, I-”

“-Please, Ser.”  The woman began in a soft, child-like voice.  “If I can ask you and your fellow knights to watch me.  My magic is unstable and erratic because of the Breach and this mark.  I know I am not in any danger of possession as much as you may suspect otherwise, but I recognize my only limitations:  an unknown magical gash in my hand and a hole in the Veil.  I ask this as an olive branch to the templars joining the Inquisition.”  Her eyes shifted behind Cullen, still dead and dark.  “The sun is rising.  I must clean up before the announcement.  I wish you good day, Ser.”

The woman bowed and pivoted on her right leg, limp back towards the village, leaving Cullen to himself, dumbfounded by the exchange.  A few moments passed before Cullen woke from shock.  Her snuffed voice rang back up the ridge towards him.  He searched around him, until he found her by the lake shore a few feet away, kneeling over the ice.  The Herald casted a small ball of flame at the ice.  Her gloved hands dusted over the surface as the top layer of ice refroze.

“Huh.” She cooed, tilted her head to the side like a curious fennec.

“What is it?” Cullen called, squinting his eyes to see what captivated her attention.

“They’re green.”  Her left hand petted the side of her eye socket.  “My eyes are…green?”

“Is that unusual?”

She nodded, sighing and return to her feet.  A small smile of disbelief curled her lips.  “My eyes were brown before the…”  Those same eyes followed skyward towards the Breach.  Her words drifted away in the cold breeze.

Cullen watched closely her walk around the lake, leaving her druffalo kill, elfroot bag, and sack of iron samples scattered around him.  Her shoulders sunk forward as she rubbed her temples.  The green mark glowed in the darkness as soft oranges, purples, and reds on the circling clouds indicated dawn had broken. 

Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, then froze.  His stomach was settle, actually grumbled a little from hunger, while his head only ached a little.  His vision was clear and crisp.  In the mountain breeze, his dry skin actually caught a chill.  His hands were steady.

He was at peace.

\-------

Evie walked up Haven’s stairs from her cabin, still clad in her new Inquisition light armor from the ceremony.  The event had been short and to the point, reflective that they were in Ferelden.  If it was anything like Orlesian announcements, she would have frozen to death and it would have spanned a week.  Most Orlesian affairs ended after three assassinations, five duels, parties for every dress the women could muster for the trip, and at least a dozen extramarital affairs.

 Cassandra spoke over the gathered crowd about Divine Justinia’s writ and their mission to restore order.  Sister Leliana sent two ravens to notify the realms and opposing rebellious side of their mission.  Evie only spoke a few words, stating her participation and her role to seal the Breach for good.  She would be in the field with the soldiers, a happy revolution when Cassandra told her yesterday evening.  Evie had already spent much of her life behind gilded cages and isolated stone walls.  She wanted direct contact with what was truly happening, fighting demons and closing rifts, and helping those who were the greatest victims, the common people. 

Evie reached over her shoulder as her leg gave way on a stair.  She left her staff in her cabin, respecting the templar’s recommendation to avoid magical skills around the pilgrims and refugees.  She felt naked and exposed as a few templars passed her talking in a group.  Despite her hood over her head, they watched critically.  Their stares burned like bright coals into her soul.  Her green eyes shifted back to the stairway, her head hanging low, listening to their laughter and comments.  Ignoring the throbbing pain her thigh, she quickened pace up the next series of stairs.  Why wouldn’t they not laugh and stare her down after telling one point-blank that morning to watch her unstable abilities?  Evie stupidly invited their scrutiny upon herself.  Why did she believe stating such a fact would be an olive branch?  Moron. 

Somehow that templar had gotten under her skin with a few short sentences. Yes, Evie threw an explosion at his feet, but she immediately recognized her mistake and offered healing.  Maybe it was his husky Ferelden voice with a twinge of Free Marcher lilt.  His chiseled face with a strong few day stubble?  His amber eyes like the embers at his feet?  His wavy hair reflecting the early dawn’s hues?

No, it was his investigation to why knew how to drain that druffalo’s blood.  That is all she needed.  The great ‘Herald of Andraste’ accused of blood magic.  Solas mentioned that day fighting towards the Breach that no single mage could create such an explosion.  Apparently, the apostate never saw multiple blood sacrifices at once.  Damn those Ostwick apprentices and their rebellious zealousness.  They snubbed their noses despite her being an enchanter because the superiors refused to tear off the templar chains and fight for their rights.  They had cause to demand respect, of course.  Nonetheless, to use the first enchanter, her mentor and dear friend Lydia, as a means to better their selfish demands sickened her.  An eldery mage who had joined their Circle right before the rebellion stated the blood bath was like a soft, refreshing spring shower compared to Kirkwall.

Evie swayed, stopping at the landing by the inner fortifications.  The mage blinked slowly as she halted the urge to purge.  A few moments passed before she regained composure.  It was then she realized she stood in front of the dwarf Varric’s tent and fire pit.  With that city already on her mind, she might as well inquire the dwarf.

“Good day, Messere Tethras.” Evie cooed, smiling at the blonde dwarf.

Varric glanced up from the dancing flames, smirking.  “Hi, Herald.  Please, drop the flattery.  Makes me sound like the Prince of Starkhaven, and I _don’t_ want to be that guy.”

“I will once you drop the ‘Herald’ and call me Evie.”  She giggled.

“Nah.” The dwarf smirked.  “My style is giving nicknames, so until I find something to call you, ‘Herald’ will just have to do.”

“Suit yourself.” Evie shrugged, then shifted to tap her foot.  “I will have to inquire my great uncle about your pen name within the writer’s guild…”

“Don’t you dare bring Philliam into this.” Varric grumbled, crossing his arms over his hair bare chest.  “Beside, I thought you Trevelyans disowned him.”

“My grandfather did when he ran away to become a bard, but the family utilizes any contact it can get in Val Royeaux.” Evie rolled her eyes.  “Keep him out of arms reach enough to not shame the family, but gain any juicy gossip.  They do the same with me.  Maybe that is why I loved having him as a pen pal in the Circle.  Kindred spirits.”

“Or you’re crazy enough to welcome Chantry altercations.” Varric mentioned. 

“I am proclaimed Herald of Andraste.  I think I have outdone Great Uncle Philliam on blasphemy.” Evie bowed as Varric clapped.

“Last I heard, Brother Genitivi declared an all-out writing war to any publisher willing to circulate Philliam’s latest accusations.” One of Varric’s eye brows lifted towards the Free Marcher noble.  “Of course, my editor wrote Philliam a letter with an offer he could not refuse.”

Evie chuckled, shaking her head.  “Those two just need to get a room.  Their rivalry love affair needs to come to ahead before one of them bursts.  The tension is going to give one of them a heart attack.”

Both human and dwarf burst out into laughter, startling some passing Chantry sisters.  Evie saw their surprised and confused expressions and nearly fell into the fire pit as she held her gut.  A few moments passed before either person composed themselves.  Evie’s eyelids hung low as she realized that was the first time she laughed in a long time.  “I am glad you are here, Varric, although a fellow prisoner, not a volunteer.  Although we never met personally before fighting at the rift, it is a relief to have a fellow Free Marcher here.  Does not make Ostwick feel so far away.  On the other hand, _not_ being there is a relief within itself.”

“Hey, I can’t be the only Free Marcher.  With the Inquisition’s grand announcement this morning, more will arrive in the next weeks.  A chance to work a Trevelyan is too appetizing offer.”

“They will be disappointed.” Evie’s voice was low and blunt.

“I’m not.” Varric proclaimed.  “Hearing your accent was a breath of fresh air.  Knowing your surname was even better.  You might be not what these people expect from a Trevelyan, but that might be what the Inquisition needs.”

“I have no idea what is happening anymore…” Evie sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Yeah, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful.  Most people who have spread that out over more than one day.”  Varric commented.

“None of this shit should’ve happened.  I am waiting for a cow to fly overhead and be crowned Divine.”  Evie glanced upward.

“You don’t know the half of it.  For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it.  ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement.  I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“If it was that bad, why did you stay?  I understand Cassandra let you go.  Lucky, bastard.”

Varric’s voice turned somber.  “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this…thousands of people died on that mountain.  I was almost one of them.  And now there’s a hold in the sky.  Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

“I’m still not sure I believe that any of this is really happening…”

 “If this is all just the Maker, winding us up.  I hope there’s a damn good punch line coming.  You might want to consider running at the first opportunity.  I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going.”

Evie smacked her forehead.  “Damn…Too late.”

Varric patted her back.  “Heroes are everywhere.  I’ve seen that.  But the hole in the sky?  That’s beyond heroes.  We’re going to need a miracle.”

Her green marked hand fell from her forehead and waved.  “Tada!”  Varric chuckled as a smile curled Evie’s lips.  “Say, that red lyrium we found at the Temple seemed to upset you.  What was that about?”

Varric rolled his head around on his shoulders.  “You know that expedition your father refused to fund?  Well, Bartrand and I sort of discovered red lyrium during that whole fiasco.  We located an ancient thaig, so old it barely looked dwarven.  There was this idol there, made of it.  Bartrand brought it back to the surface, and well, everything’s gone downhill from there.”

Evie squeezed her eyes shut.  “What were you and Bartrand thinking when you approached him all those years ago?  I only heard about it after the fact, but I was thankful I was not living at home when it occurred.  Mother stated he was erratic and impossible for a long time.”

“It was Bartrand’s idea.” Varric admitted.  “My brother had the business brains and never imagined it would welcome the bann’s wrath.  Should have known that was how his first wife died.  I only heard about a mine explosion, not the darkspawn pouring out like an ant hill.  In the end, he won.  Bartrand went crazy, and we never recovered from the lost trade.”

“When you open Father’s anger, the only place you are truly safe is in the Deep Roads.”  Evie realized, rubbing her forehead.  “So what is it, just another of type of lyrium?”

“The red stuff is lyrium like a dragon is a lizard.  It’s not just a different color.  It has a whole host of weirdness all its own.  I’ve written to everything mining caste house in Orzammar.  No one’s seen this stuff before or knows where it comes from.”

“Oh, how Father would regret telling you ‘no’ then.”  Evie commented sarcastically.  “What makes it special?”

“As you know, regular lyrium can mess you up pretty badly, but you have to ingest it for that to happen.  Red lyrium messes with your mind when you’re just near the stuff.  You hear singing, get violent, paranoid.  And then it does…creepy shit.  Makes things float.  Bring statues to life.  It also turned Kirkwall’s knight-commander to lyrium.  Everyone’s been kept at least a hundred paces from it since.”

“And that is different from when Meredith was alive how?” Evie cooed, tilting her head to the side.  “Strange.  How did it get in the Temple of Sacred Ashes?  Was the thaig located under it?”

“No.  The thaig’s location is a secret.  So far as I knew, the only piece to make it to the surface was destroyed.  Did someone find more of it in the Deep Roads?  That’s not a cheery thought.”

Evie stared at the fire pit’s flames.  “I can write to my father’s geologists not connected to Orzammar to see if they know anything.  I assume you tried to contact Father directly and were systematically ignored and shunned.  He can be so sophomoric sometimes.  The Conclave explosion, a foreign magic mark that commands tears in the Veil, and the appearance of a severely dangerous form of lyrium.  Catastrophe follows me everywhere…”

“You and me both…” Varric added.

Silence fell over the two troubled souls seeking warm by the fire pit.  Their thoughts carried them away from the present revelations.  Varric glanced up the noble mage to his left, noticing her struggle in her shifting eyes.  Her expression morphed between confidence and insecurity.  “What do you want to ask?”

Evie was taken aback, then sighed as she hung her head.  “I will never win a game of _Wicked Grace_.  I…I was wondering if I could obtain a copy of _Tales of the Champion_.”

Varric blinked a few times.  “I figured you would have that you’ve worn the book’s spine from rereading it.”

Evie barely shook her head no.  “I…The circle banned it from the library, along with anything else that could bolster the flames of rebellion.   When Ostwick collapsed, I went home for a while.  The family library did not have a copy.  The book and everything that happened was like an open sore that will never heal.  While I traveled in Ferelden, I could not bring myself to request it without people thinking I was part of the rebellion and spreading propaganda.  I nearly hugged you on the ramparts when you introduced yourself.  To meet you, a person who could give me some answers…”

Varric noticed a few tears welled up in her bright green eyes.  “I will pull some strings and see what I can do.  Possibly butter up my publisher by saying Philliam’s grandniece was the Herald.”

Evie smiled only briefly.  “I know what happened in Kirkwall must traumatize you, but maybe after I am done read you can answer some lingering questions?  I…I have my reasons for being so curious, and I can explain them then, if you request.”

“I think I can be persuaded with a few dwarven ales.” Varric agreed.

“Agreed…although I fear ale, even if it is dwarven, will not be sufficient for me.”

Varric observed Evie’s sight quickly fixate on a tall, armored man with a mantle coat clacking up the stairs and pass the fire pit.  The man nodded at the Herald before continuing his journey towards the chantry.  “Ah, I see you met Curly.”

Evie blinked, confused by Varric observation.  “Excuse me?  Curly?  You mean that templar.”

“Yeah, another former resident of Kirkwall.”  Varric referenced.  “He was born in Ferelden, but if you get home sick he can bore you with his serious Chantry gibberish.  Can’t get the man to crack a smile.”

“I take it he is important?” Evie wondered, remembering that he stood behind her at the announcement ceremony beside an Antivan woman and Sister Leliana.

Varric laughed.  “I’d say.  He is the Inquisition’s Commander.”  Evie repeated her fish impression from the day before as her jaw fell open.  She held her chest, swaying a little at the realization.  “Maker’s arse…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found it strange the mage player's magic is stable with this foreign magic attached to their hand. I attempt to address it with this tale.
> 
> Templar mine closure is from “Construction Orders” written by Mother Florentine, located by the siege equipment in Haven.
> 
> Vivienne speaks about Lydia to the Trevelyan mage Herald, mentioning she was a senior enchanter. I upgraded her status to denote that Evie was trained by the head of her Circle. Maybe the previous first enchanter died and Lydia assumed the role?
> 
> Philliam, a Bard! is introduced in The World of Thedas, Vol.2. I find the man amusing and a must have a Trevelyan Inquisitor story. He is stark contrast to Brother Genitivi, the cleric who assisted the Warden in Dragon Age: Origin.


	3. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse poor grammar. I do not have a beta at the moment. I can read this a thousand times and still not catch everything.
> 
> "-------" denotes change of scene or perspective
> 
> Chapter Song: "Unstable" by Anberlin
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

“Varric,” A thick harsh accent called from behind the two beings staying by the fire.  “What have you done to the Herald?”

Varric and Evie both jumped, twirling to face Cassandra standing by the inner fortifications.  Evie braced herself against Varric’s shoulders as the storyteller tried to wave air into her face.  The seeker grunted as she approached the two Free Marchers.

“Nothing, Seeker.  She just stumbled and became faint suddenly.” Varric winked up at Evie out of sight of the approaching warrior.

Evie smiled before turning her full attention to the Nevarran.  “I am just still a bit shaky from everything that is happening, Seeker Pentaghast.  It was been an eventful twenty-four bells.”

Cassandra’s stern gaze never settled.  “No doubt.  I wish you could rest more, but we’re needed at the advisor’s meeting.”

Evie sighed, squeezing her bright green eyes shut and turned away from the woman and dwarf.  She muttered a quick prayer and several curse words under her breath.  After a few moments, her engrained etiquette took control of her body, straightening her shoulders and holding her head high.  “Lead on, and I shall follow.”

Cassandra groaned as she passed Varric shaking his head and chuckling to himself.  The Herald followed her lead as they rounded the wall by his tent and up the last incline to the top of Haven.  Once they were out of the dwarf’s hearing range, Cassandra slowed her step so she walk beside the Herald.  The warrior studied the mage to her right closely.  Her behavior was stiff, face blank, and bright green eyes fixed on the Chantry ahead of them. 

Both women were of similar height.  Both preferred a smoky and kohl-rimmed eye.  Each had a few scars on their faces:  Cassandra’s on her cheeks and Evie’s on her forehead cutting down into her auburn eyebrows.  Their builds differed, an indicator of their drastically dissimilar fighting styles.  The Herald’s physique surprisedly contained a decent amount of muscle for a Circle mage as her new Inquisition armor tightly hugged her body.  Either her Circle permitted her to exercise or she has been very active since it fell a few months ago.  Her skin was lightly tanned, denoting she had been out in the sun a great deal and not hiding on her family’s estate.

Cassandra’s mind wondered back to Leliana’s revelation yesterday.  Divine Justinia personally invited Evelyn Trevelyan to the Conclave.  Why hadn’t the Divine told her she would be there?  Most likely to avoid conflict like the same tense situation that occurred in the war room yesterday.  The Right Hand never met Evelyn Trevelyan all those years ago, but she saw portraits of the lady when Divine Beatrix requested her to investigate the family’s grievances.   Seeing her in the prison after she fell out of the rift, Cassandra was so sure of her guilt.  A woman whose family cornered a divine survived the Conclave.  Was it providence?  The Maker was testing her faith surely.

The seeker glanced forward as Evie reached the sunburst green doors first, pushing it open with her marked hand.  Despite it hidden by a glove, the green glow bled through the cloth.  Evie peeked beside her and waved Cassandra inward.  The warrior nodded as a sign of thanks and followed the other woman’s instruction.

Leliana suggested befriending the mage to discover what she declined to investigate ten years ago.  Furthermore, the Right Hand must give an air that the Herald was not what the Chantry claimed, a fake prophet and a murderer.  Cassandra truly embraced the belief that she was chosen by the Maker’s Bride during their time in need.  The vision in the Temple vindicated her innocent.  Why did the Herald not believe?  She called the memory biased, imitating the people who created it.  Had the Herald gone to the Conclave to kill the Divine?  Is that why she felt like she committed the crime?

Evie winced as her marked hand sparked while the Chantry door closed behind them.  She grabbed it with her other hand, beginning to rub her palm, trying to hide the pain across her face.  Cassandra’s mind wandered back to that terrifying day when Evie fell to the ground as the mark spread up her arm in sync with the expanding Breach.  She hollered at the seeker that why would she all this to herself.  The Herald’s belief of her own role in the Conclave explosion fluctuated between guilt and innocence.

“Does it trouble you?” Cassandra questioned, partly concerned about the mage’s welfare as well as curious.

Evie grimaced, walking forward into the Chantry’s nave.  “If it wasn’t enough to close the Breach, what use is it?!  I am a walking beacon!  It dyed by eyes green and disrupts my own magic.  I wish I could get rid of it!”

“You did everything we asked of you.”

Evie scuffed, rolling her bright green eyes.  “And it still didn’t work.”

Cassandra nodded, matching Evie’s pace.  “We still have need of it.”

Evie threw her a look similar to a fire ball.  Her voice filled with venom.  “So you clearly mentioned yesterday.”

 “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach.”  Cassandra had to assure this woman before doubt wore her down.  “You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed—provided the mark has more power.  The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place.  That is not easy to come by, even as a mage with your abilities.”

Evie threw her a second look, more explosive than the last.  And yet, she seemed stunned by the statement.  “Clearly you have something in mind.  Couldn’t that kind of power just make things worse?  I have seen what the desire for more power looks like.  It is controlling the Waking Sea.  It is sacrificing Circle hierarchy to fill a tower with blood magic and demons.  I am powerful, and that is not vanity.  _I_ could make things worse.”

Cassandra’s remark backfired.  Leliana will not be happy.  “And people call me a pessimist.”

Evie stopped a few steps in front of the Chantry backroom door.  “I prefer the term realist.  You know what I did this morning before dawn?  I told evidently the Commander of the Inquisition to have all the templars watch me because this _thing_ has turned my magic volatile.  The one part of me that I’ve struggled with since it manifested is now wreaking havoc on my mind, body, and soul.  I tell you this because you and Sister Leliana wished me to assist the Inquisition.  I fear I might bring its end before it takes flight.  I _do_ want to see Thedas find order, but I feel I will only replace it with more chaos.”

“Why do you have such a negative belief in yourself?”  Cassandra quizzed, wrinkling her nose in disgust.  “Where does this self-loathing come from?”

Evie laughed, rolling her eyes.  “The Chantry and my templar family entrenched in me since I could walk that magic was inherently evil, meant to serve man, but not rule over him.  Whatever Andraste meant by that only she and the Maker knows.  I turn eight, and suddenly I set a gazebo aflame during a garden tea party.  I become the very thing I have been told to fear and shun.  I volunteered to go the Circle, that dysfunctional prison hiding the problem instead of addressing it.  I only speak what many others are already thinking.  I found the reports affirming people tried to assassinate me.  I suspected no less.  Nothing’s changed since my youth.  However, they are not trying to kill me because I am a Trevelyan.  They want me, a mage, to bleed because the Divine is dead, and they beg for someone be held responsible.”

“ _Are_ you responsible?”

Evie rubbed her temples, searching around the stone hall for nothing.  Cassandra felt arcs of magic in the air as the mage’s fingertips turned frosty.  “I-I cannot remember.  I have always been able to rely on myself.  Seeing the Fade’s projection in the Temple…it felt like it was another person.  I know it was me, but not, you know?  It is like a hole been drilled into my skull, like its own sunburst brand…”

Cassandra sighed, nodding.  “Fine.  Let’s establish a plan just between you and me.  Firstly, speak to Solas.  He’s been correct about the mark and the Breach the last few days.  He may know some coping methods to settle this alien magic.  In the times that it _might_ overpower your will, I will be there.  As a Seeker, I am safer than the templars outside this building right now.  I’m not in a harsh war with mages.”  Evie huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  The warrior ignored her attitude.  “Secondly, if you told the commander to watch you, believing he was a templar, it most likely means the other templars do not know about this… _yet_.  I will intervene and tell him to keep such realization between us.” 

The seeker needed to be a little honest with the woman.  She paused and searched for the right words so not have her statements backfire again.  “Lastly, regarding your lapse memory and inner struggle with your magic, be sure of one thing:  I believe you are innocent.  I believe more is going on here than we realize.  And I believe no one else cares to do anything about it.  They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot.  I was quick to judge.  My trainers always told me I was too brash, that I needed to think before I act.  I believe that day you awoke in the prison I found the culprit.  I thought the answer was before me, clear as day.  You agreed to help us, and you continue to do so now.  That does not sound like a person who would kill the Divine and destroy a holy site.”

Evie groaned about to say something, but frozen.  A hurt expression fell over her face as her green eyes shifted away.  It took a few moments for it to subside as a sigh escaped her lips.  “…It wasn’t like you had no reason to suspect me.  You are right, as much as it pains me to say.  I know I would never harm the Divine.  She was an admirable woman, and it’s reflected in the people she chose to surround her.  No, I would never _intentionally_ destroy a holy site and kill thousands, even if I possess such power to do so on accident.  I collapsed and nearly died closing the Breach with just my own willpower.  What happened upon that mountain was malicious and completed with purpose.  That sort of power should not be possessed by any individual or group of individuals in Thedas.”

Evie sighed, rubbing her temple again as her eyes glimmered with calculations.  “Suppose my paranoia results from the red lyrium, as Varric indicated happened to Knight-Commander Meredith.  Perhaps it is survivor’s guilt.  Eye-witness accounts stated that King Alistair suffered for weeks after Ostagar.  Most likely, it is the fear I will become someone stupid enough to welcome possession and blood magic like my templar relatives always said.  Knowing that you have faith in me, Seeker Pentaghast, brings some peace, despite our history.  Your faith in the Maker is strong, as is your word.  I hope that whatever endeavors await us, you will be present to bring my ‘self-loathing’ idiocy back from the brink.”

“I will, with great delight.” Cassandra confirmed, smirking a little.

“Thank you, but do not get too much enjoyment from that.  It just drives me to find the truth more to void you such happiness.” Evie nodded, curling her lips upwards.

Cassandra noted then Evie gazed upon the Nevarran with different eyes, ones of appreciation and newfound purpose.  The mage’s fears were not unusual.  Almost all Circle mages possess some form of guilt for their nature.  The Chantry’s fear-mongering only escalated that shame.  Being part of a noble templar family only deepened that repugnance.  Furthermore, whatever conversation she interrupted between the Herald and Varric, it provided an additional explanation for her guilty conscience. 

Cassandra’s own doubts subsided from the conversation.  No, Evelyn Trevelyan’s survival at the Breach and her mark _was_ providence.  Maybe even their history together allowed a foundation to build upon, even if it was negatively based.  The Maker always chose his messengers wisely, and now Cassandra had a chance to be part of that message.

“Come, Herald.  The others are waiting.”

 

\-------

 

Cassandra opened the War Room’s door for Evie, who straightened her back and held her chin high.  First impressions were more important that anything that followed, her mother always said.  Evie had already fumbled two first impressions:  Cassandra and the Commander of the Inquisition. 

The exchange between Cassandra and she only moments before seem to smooth over any fluffed fur between the two women at the moment.  Cassandra’s words of reassurance and well-placed belief were welcoming and sincere, although a small part of Evie’s brain reminded the mage that she fell for such traps in the past.  The warrior was trying to move past her initial mistake calling her a murderer, one that Evie believed true because she lost confidence in herself.  She mentally slapped herself.  Why had she not looked at the evidence before her and allowed paranoia to incriminate her?  Being a lone survivor who had physically walked out of the Fade with no memory of the event, surrounded with a substance that drives people mad, when the sky rained death and destruction would cause any sane person to second guess, even if they were not a mage.

Which brought Evie to the second ruffled first impression.  Evie prayed someone else would stand in front of her when Cassandra opened the door.  No, the Maker enjoyed making her squirm as her eyes met those amber embers owned by the templar she had met that morning.  This opposite world really enjoyed torturing Evie.  She never asked for his name, only seeing the Flaming Sword of Mercy etched on his gauntlets and his templar stylized breastplate.  In her defense, he was not wearing that bear mantle that morning.  No templar would be permitted to wear such a thing.  However, it did not surprise her a templar led the Inquisition’s forces.  They were highly skilled warriors who could work in a group or individually.  Multiple men and women in her family were templars, serving in many armies as generals and advisors against malificar. 

The man came from Kirkwall, the grand conflagration of blood magic and abuse of power.  He either was the biggest bootlicker this side of Thedas or dodged the largest statue Meredith tossed in the Gallows.  He _survived_.  Evie winced, regretting the realization immediately.  The commander tilted his head back in confusion.  No, she cannot think about that right now.

Cassandra cleared her throat.  “Advisors, this is Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyan of Ostwick.” 

Evie nodded her head to each person in the room.  She placed her hands behind her back.  “A pleasure.  Please, call me Evie.  You and I will be working closely together for the foreseeable future.  I am just a simple person, nothing more.”

“Hera-I mean Evie,” Cassandra corrected, smacking her lips together as if the name left a strange taste in her mouth.  “You’ve met Commander Cullen, Leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

Evie leaned forward against the table to settle herself as the man opened his lips.  Damn that bloody seeker as the rather handsome man spoke.  “It was only a moment on the field.  I’m please you survived, nonetheless.  We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”

Evie lowered her gaze as his words rang in her mind.  Two emotions quickened her heart.  One, embarrassment.  It seemed the commander had a sense of humor, unless she missed something. Two, sorrow.  She saw the bridges lined with the dead as she trekked up the Pilgrim’s Path.  There were not enough carts as bodies were stacked like logs three high.  Evie overheard a Chantry sister state there was not enough bandages, resorting to tearing shirts.  No wonder so many dead were not wrapped in linen for the pyre.  “A great regret that I did not awaken sooner, Commander.  Now that I am able, let me assist in any way possible to avoid the losses we experienced on the mountain.  Although, I should be more careful.  I do not want to be in a sick bed after every skirmish then.”  A small smile crossed the commander’s lips with a nod.  The scar above his upper lip caught the mage’s attention.  How had she missed _that_ this morning?

Cassandra glanced at Evie, then the blond man, shaking away a thought before continuing.  “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador and Chief Diplomat.”

“I’ve heard much.  It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.” The dark skinned Antivan sang, tapping her quill forward.

“Montilyet?  As in Yves Montilyet?”

“Yes, Herald.  The noble and trading worlds are truly small.” The ambassador commented.  “Everyone of distinction in the Free Marches attends Lady Trevelyan’s summer balls.  Your sister, Patricia, is a delightful woman.  Alas, I do not recall seeing you at any of them.”

Evie grimaced as her stomach turned, but quickly hid her disgust not to alarm the ambassador.  She glanced at Cullen, who had one brow up in curiosity.  “I was less than sterling company when I was younger.  Setting Grand-Aunt Lucille’s gazebo ablaze also can dampen a chance for future invitations.  And please, Evie. I know it is quite the shift, but I must insist.” Evie smiled, tilting her head to the side.  One of her braids came lose and fell over her right ear.  Cullen shook his head, smirking to himself.

“Very well.” Josephine relented.  Her face shifted as she committed the preference to memory.

“Of course, you know Sister Leliana.”

“My position here involves a degree of…” The red headed rogue began before Cassandra interjected.

“She is our spymaster.” Cassandra blurted.

“Yes.  Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Leliana’s glare caused Evie to giggle momentary.  “It is good to see you again, Sister.”

“I mentioned before that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.” Cassandra reminded the mage.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana announced.

Cullen grimaced, gripping his broadsword hilt.  “And I still disagree.  The templars could serve just as well.”

“We need power, Commander.  Enough poured into that mark-“

“-Might destroy us all.”  The knight hissed, striking the air in front of him.  “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-“

“Pure speculation.” Leliana bluntly stated.

_Of course it would come to this._ Evie mentally rolled her eyes.  She had been so preoccupied with her potential role in the Conclave explosion and being realistic on the dangers of powering a foreign magic that Evie never considered _where_ that power would come from.  Suddenly, Evie wished she could single-handedly caused the explosion if it meant not dealing with the two of the more illogical groups in all Thedas. Apparently, war politics resided between the advisors as well.  Oh, how the mage sympathized with Divine Justinia before the Conclave.  No wonder she developed a contingency plan if and when negotiations collapsed.

“ _I_ was a templar.  I know what they’re capable of.” 

Evie threw the man a look.  She barely kept her comments to herself, fighting her inner Trevelyan.  Was?  No one truly leaves the Order.  His demeanor that morning stated that he was as much a templar as she was a mage:  blood rich with lyrium.  Maybe that is how he survived that damn city. 

“Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet.  The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition—and you, specifically.”  Josaphine reminded the group, tilting towards Evie.

“That didn’t take long.” Evie rolled her eyes.  “I figured they would establish a committee and argue for three months.  I guess it is easier to run with the whole ‘murdering mage’ ploy.”

“Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become divine?’  Cullen groaned.

“Your suspected guilt is not the entire reason any longer.  Some are calling you—a mage—the ‘Herald of Andraste.’  That frightens the Chantry.  The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy.  And we heretics for harboring you.” Josephine explained.

Evie could feel Cassandra’s disgust.  “Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.”

“Goodness,” Evie cooed, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I knew the man was unsecure without his colorful tail, but damning the Inquisition because he cannot find a mate is a new low.”

“Excuse me?” Josephine called as the rest of the room looked to one another for an explanation.

Evie chuckled.  “The cleric reminds me of a tailless peacock, who thought he could strut around the Haven garden like he owned the place.”

Cassandra beamed with approval.  “Thank you for a very applicable mental image.”

“No, thank _you_ and Sister Leliana for plucking him naked.” Evie bowed to the seeker.  “I am just ecstatic I got to watch as he pissed himself.”

Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana grinned, while Josephine seemed horrified by the comments.  “Alas, it limits our options.  Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.”

Evie wrinkled her nose as she spread her legs to change her stance.  “By the way, just how am _I_ the ‘Herald of Andraste’?  I cannot help but agree with the Chantry on such a sacrilegious title.  I am waiting for my grandmother to raise from the dead, slap me upside the head, and wag her skeletal finger in my face for accepting the label.”

Cassandra answered.  “People saw what you did at the Temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing.  They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you.  They believe that was Andraste.”

“Wait, what woman?” Evie grabbed Cassandra’s shoulder.

“A woman resembling an Andrastian statue in full regalia.”  Cullen explained, stepping forward.  “I only saw a short glimpse from my location, but my men even called for her to come through the rift with you.”

Evie swayed as a wave of emotion overcame her senses.  Thank goodness for the wooden table.  She laid her hands flat against its top, over a map of southern Thedas.  “I had not heard about that.  I apologize for my behavior.  I thought surely someone must have fallen on their head when they called me that.”

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-“ Cassandra began.

“-which we have not.” Leliana interjected.  “The point is, everyone is talking about you.”

“It’s quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen sniggered at the mage.  “How do you feel about that?”

Evie could not read his intention.  He studied the woman like a cat who ate the canary.  Evie grimaced, locking eyes with the man.  “It’s…a little unsettling.”

Cullen broke out in a chuckle.  “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

“Two things the Chantry has done without assembling a committee.” Evie cooed.  “Now I know the world is ending.”  Cullen shook his head as his chuckles shifted into a few laughs.

Evie swallowed, realizing the sound was intoxicating and had an uplifting effect on all her senses.  The action caused his strong cheekbones to flush a shade of pink and his mantle’s fur to wave like the Waking Sea.  The mage jotted a mental note to make the man laugh every waking moment.

Cassandra cleared her throat again, throwing a glare at both adults on either side of the table.  Evie stiffed, turning serious again.  “They aren’t more concerned about the Breach?  The real threat?”

Cullen held up his head again, reminding Evie of the templars recruits running around her Circle when the revered mother reprimanded them for bad behavior.  “They do know it’s a threat.  They just don’t think we can stop it.”

Evie grinned devilishly and could not help herself.  She held up three fingers with her marked hand.  “Make that three…”

Cullen burst out into a chuckle again as Evie stood smug, avoiding the daggers Cassandra’s eyes threw at the left side of her face.  What had Varric done wrong?  Urinated in his boot?  This was too easy.

“Ugh…” Cassandra snorted.

Leliana stepped forward, taking over for the disgusted Cassandra.  “There is something you can do.  A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you.  She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I.  Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Evie eyed the spymaster suspiciously.  “Why would someone from the Chantry help a declared heretic?”

“I understand she is a reasonable sort.  Perhaps she does not agree with her sisters?  You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe.”

Evie knew all four advisors saw her eyes light up like a bonfire.  The Hinterlands, the mage’s ultimate goal since she landed in Ferelden three months ago.  She had no desire to join the rebel mages, but personal business pointed to the region.  She hiked on foot, at night, out of sight, and avoided heavy settlements since leaving Amaranthine.  She was only a week away when a family carrier had found her in a insolvent inn in the middle of nowhere.  He carried the Divine’s personal invitation.  As much as she avoided her family, they always found her in the end.  Once reading the Divine’s letter in her own hand, Evie knew could not decline.  She took the carrier’s extra horse and bag of sovereigns sent by her father and ventured west into the Frostback Mountains.

Now, she could return to the original task with protection and purpose.  “When can we leave?”

“Uh,” Cassandra stammered, not expecting the enthusiasm.  “Tomorrow morning, I suppose.  It will take us about four days on foot to get there.  The horses stabled here before the explosion were ripped apart by terrors and other demons.”

Evie nodded.  “Okay.  I suggest Solas and Varric join us.  Who knows what travels the roads and waits for us in the region.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while are there.” Cullen suggested.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.” Josephine added.

Evie smiled deeply, feeling the first bit of peace and happiness since leaving Ostwick.  “Understood.” 


	4. Holy Intentions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse poor grammar. I do not have a beta at the moment. I can read this a thousand times and still not catch everything.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Serenata Immortale" by Immediate
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

“It just so surprising to hear a Chantry sister _not_ condemning magic.”  Evie affirmed, astonished by the revered mother’s opinions.  Leliana’s intelligence was correct:  Mother Giselle was very reasonable and level minded.  “The Revered Mother in Ostwick’s Circle constantly repeated to us that we were a blemish on Thedas and unwanted by the general public.  She placed us below dwarves and elven on how much _our kind_ had turned away from the Maker.”

Mother Giselle sighed to Evie’s left, holding her horse’s reigns closely to her chest.  She seemed unsteady on the stead.  “Sisters are not supposed to say such.  We do not teach that magic is evil.  We _should_ teach that pride is evil—and does not corrupt only mages.  As I said to that soldier, magic can be turned to a noble purpose, as you demonstrated at the Crossroads.  It is surely no more evil than his blade.”  Her Orlesian accent was thick and difficult to follow, but Evie was enjoying the refreshing conversation.

“I knew you were not like other Chantry members.”  Evie smiled, nudging her Ferelden Forder onward up the last ridges to Haven.  “You were among the wounded and destitute.  You refused to leave until your flock was protected, clothed, and fed.  As soon as Corporal Vale listed all the concerns, I knew I could make a difference and immediately jumped into action.  You do not stand with the rest of the Chantry.”

“With no Divine, we are each left to our own conscience—and mine told me to stay.” Mother Giselle smiled back, nodding at the Herald.

Cassandra briefly smiled to herself behind Evie’s stead, impressed with their contributions to the refugee’s plight in the Hinterlands.  What was supposed to be a week expedition morphed into three weeks of fighting rogue mages and templars, hunting multiple species of wildlife threatening farmers, gathering supply caches, and protecting heritage sites.  Evie spoke to many people of all classes and races.  Her ‘to do’ list filled two pages of parchment.  The mage completed Josephine’s request to spread the Inquistion’s influence three fold.

The seeker looked back at the group of recruits and agents.  A few dozen people of all paths of life followed on horses, pulling wagons, and walking the steep slopes up the last mountain before Haven.  Even though Cullen’s troops secured the road between Redcliffe and Haven, Evie insisted on travelling together, adding an additional two days to the travel time.  It annoyed the warrior, but Evie argued that if they were going to recruit people or protect refugees who were willing to work for their cause, they needed to physically see that their lives were going to improve under their watch.  Security and a peace of mind could do wonders on morale and drive.

Evie’s actions and determination seemed drawn from her own inner fears and self-doubt.  Although both women argued frequently, their anger never turned into violence.  The Herald had a very hot temper, but so did Cassandra.  They were people of action and both were sick of others’ idiotic deeds in the mage rebellion.  Evie described the whole fiasco as a ‘shit show’ caused by all three institutions’ stupidity.  At the meeting of enchanters, Grand Enchanter Fiona declared the mages should rebel when they were there to debate reversing tranquility.  Templar commanders demanded more restrictions in an already oppressive system.  Finally, the Chantry never found a balance and just repeated historical mistakes because they are obsessed with tradition. 

The Herald hinted briefly one night around a camp fire why she was at the Conclave.  She expressed great respect for Divine Justinia on pushing for negotiations and resolution.  Cassandra explained that Divine Beatrix had written the writ, but felt she could not put it into action.  Evie simply cooed, “…and look at the thousands of lives lost.  People believe inaction is not a choice.  It is so much so and can be more devastating.”  Evie had smirked, remarking her disdain for the advisors arguing over allying between the templars and mages to seal the Breach.  “Just another inaction that could bring about the end of the world.”

Cassandra broke her thought process and noticed Evie pointing with her marked hand at the log outer fence surrounding Haven, expressing to the group that they were almost home.  Food, clean clothes, shelter, and most importantly ale was in their grasp.  The seeker grimaced, her curiosity got the best of her while she and Mother Giselle continued their debate.

Cassandra called from behind the two women, stretching her neck to see over her horse’s ears.  “Tell me, Evie.  Do you even believe in the Maker?  How you speak about the Chantry…”

“I believe he exists.” Evie replied, understanding why the seeker would question her faith.  “I just do not believe the Chantry acts on His behalf.  Too many of my family’s women were promised at birth to serve the institution.  I was almost one of them, if it was not for my mother.  Oh, how many family sisters sighed in relief when my magic manifested.  I never could hold my tongue.  My aunts and cousins struggled for years between what the Chant stated and the organization’s inner politics.  Alas, they gave up fighting because they were pressured by the family leaders and templar members to fall into political line.”

Varric laughed behind Solas, trying his best not to fall off their stead.  He had relinquished his horse to Mother Giselle for their journey to Haven.  “No, you act in the most proper manner.  Even the Empress of Orlais could not speak ill will of you.”

Evie giggled as well.  “Oh, I am just the model noble woman and devout Andrastian!”

“Ugh…”  Cassandra groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, the Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.” Solas jested, ignoring Cassandra’s stunned expression to his left.  Varric’s grip tightened on his hip, demonstrating his own astonishment.

“Riding my shining steed…” Evie beamed, patting the Forder on the neck.  Its coat was the same color as her auburn hair, though Evie’s hue was touch more red after weeks out in the sun.

“Pity is not a griffon, but sadly, they’re extinct.”  Evie’s horse turned his head and huffed at the elven apostate.

“Who said he isn’t?”  Evie proclaimed.  “I think that is what I will call you.  ‘Griffon.’”  The horse thrusted his nose up and down in approval.  “I thought so!”

“Say, Monkey,” Varric began.  “You raced that track like you designed it.  They let you keep horses at your Circle?”

Evie burst out laughing.  “My Circle was a high tower in the middle of the Vimmark Mountains with a single walking path wide enough for a templar’s pauldrons.  No, my father taught me to ride before I could even walk.  I never wanted a pony, but my own Free Marches Ranger.  I would race around the estate as quickly as I could mush it, jumping over stone walls and streams.  My mother swore I was going to break my neck on such a large animal, but I never floundered.  I missed the rush and freedom in the Circle.  I guess Griffon and I melded as soon as I nudged him into a trot.  It is like I reclaimed a part of me lost after so many years.”  She scratched the horse’s head between the ears.  Her words drifted away as her eyes glimmered.

Mother Giselle lifted her hand to interject into the conversation.  “May I ask why he called you ‘Monkey’?”

“Because she is a Rivaini monkey, that’s why!”  Varric yelled.  “The woman sleeps in trees or on high stone outcrops.  The first night on the road, the seeker nearly had a heart attack, thinking bandits abducted the Herald.  She woke Chuckles and I with her shield and sword at the ready.  Monkey jumps down from an overhanging branch, fire burning in both palms thinking the camp was being overrun!  I never thought a warrior could screech like that!”

“Shut it, Varric.”  Cassandra hissed.

“Truly, Herald?” Mother Giselle questioned, confused by the behavior.

Evie shrugged.  “I did the same in the Circle.  It was not uncommon for a templar or a senior enchanter to find me on top of a library bookcase sound asleep.  Numerous solitary confinements in tiny cells changes you.  I cannot sleep without being surrounded by nothing but gravity or by four tight, unbreakable walls.”

“Should we warn the Inquisition forces in Haven?”  Solas suggested.  “They might react similarly to Cassandra if they check your cabin.”

“I was going to offer my cabin to Mother Giselle.” Evie smiled happily at the revered mother.  “I noticed a small room in the Chantry’s cellar with a lockable iron door.  It has shelves filled with books I have not read ten times and a writing desk to respond to letters and reports.”  She patted her saddle bag grinning ear-to-ear.  “Besides, the temperature is going to be _just_ right for these rare bottles of liquor we found.”

“At least Master Dennet gave you that rare carnal since he has been so demanding providing horses to the Inquisition.”  Varric commented, eying her saddle bag like a child reaching for a fresh baked cookie.  “Hopefully Curly can get those towers up fast.”

“ _No_ , Varric.” Evie scowled.  “My collection of booze…”

“Ugh…Bring it all to Lady Montilyet’s attention once we return.” Cassandra advised.  “She will see that your belongings are moved.”  The four horses slowed to a trot as they approached the stables.  Two Inquisition archers each reached for the riders’ reigns to allow them to dismount safely.  Evie beamed at the man she had met from Ansburg.  Cassandra remember hearing him complain about their previous mounts and his grand family’s equestrian history.

Evie referenced herself, landing in some mud with a _thud_.  Animal and human blood, mud, and demon black goop covered her now-ratty Inquisition light armor.  “Seeker, I am wearing my only belongings.  Everything I owned was destroyed in the explosion.  Though, I can only imagine the numerous letters waiting for me from every family member who hated me wishing for my consul on their mundane gripes.”

“Herald Evelyn!”

Cassandra popped her head over her saddle after dismounting to see a young tan-skinned elven woman with shoulder-length brown hair racing towards the group.  The Herald paused, studying the woman.  Her sarcastic attitude immediately shifted to one of panic and defense.

“Fesill, what happened?!” Evie called, reaching for her staff behind her back.

The elven woman, no more than sixteen, stopped a few feet away, bending over with her hands on her knees panting.  “Mages…Templars…Fight…in front of…the Chantry!”

Evie took no time to spark a flame in her left palm, while grasping her enchanter staff in the right.  The mark crackled with the flames.  “Party, to arms!”

Cassandra unbuckled her shield from her saddle and unsheathed her sword.  Varric unfolded Bianca the Crossbow from his back, slapping a bolt clip into the chamber.  Solas’ motioned his hand, preparing to cast a barrier and ice mine at the first chance of an ambush.  The Herald shoved Haven’s gate open, surprising the guards on the catwalks as all four Inquisition members rushed up the stairs, passed the stone wall, and towards the Chantry. 

Mentally, Cassandra scanned Evie, preparing to silence her if her magic went array.  Despite her previous fears, her magic had subsided as she felt more control over the mark.  It flared like the sun the first time she killed rogue templars and mages at the Crossroads.  The mage vomited behind the hunter’s cabin after the altercation.  She clasped a page from a hunter’s journal that detailed rape and indiscriminate murder.  After several additional skirmishes with bandits, Evie’s panic waned.  Cassandra hypothesized she had never took a life.

More evidence of vicious crimes surfaced with every favor the group completed.  Evie seemed the most shock, the mark pulsing with green light and sparks, finding a cabin with numerous mage bodies where they hid together and the templars simply burned the structure down.  Again, the alien magic came to life when she was informed that an elf’s husband was murdered for his wedding ring.  The seeker could excuse that moment because she had just closed a rift.

Evie did her best to hide the pain, but she failed miserably.  Following closing a rift, she would sway and hold her shoulder and chest as if she was absorbing it into her body.  Neither Solas’ healing nor a rejuvenation potion seemed to alleviate it.  She would usually request to rest, asking all three comrades to keep an eye out, her fear of open spaces making the pain worse.  Solas worked with her nightly on meditation and breathing techniques, particularly mantras that were not taught in the Circle.  The apostate advised she find something to sooth her will and soul to find a balance.  As of yet, the Herald had not found an outlet.

One night when it was just them in the forest, Evie apologized for not being the ‘strong and fearless leader’ or the ‘Maker’s Bride’s grand messenger.’  All three people responded the same way:  you are a normal human being doing extraordinary tasks.  Cassandra was relieved on the climb to Haven that Mother Giselle stated Andraste did not carry the Chant of Light herself.  She was surrounded by her generals, advisors, and for a time her husband.  The Herald found the comparison unsettling, which Mother Giselle replied if such a comparison caused her to pause, it was not a bad thing.

In those weeks, Cassandra watched the mage closely.  She was humble and venerable, aware of her status as a noble and a mage.  Her eyes noted pain when a soldier shunned her as a mage, but glimmered hearing a sick woman would live because she was willing to trek across the Hinterlands to seek a cure.  Evelyn Trevelyan was only a force to reckon with when cornered or when on a mission.  She did not allow anything to deter her until it was finished. 

Which is why Cassandra monitored the woman as they approached a gathered group in front of the Chantry.  Mages crowded to the left, while templars massed on the right.  At a distance near the fire pit and Leliana’s headquarters, refugees, Chantry clerics, and pilgrims huddled; their faces expressing curiosity and fear.  The Herald’s face flushed, her temper reaching new levels as her magic flickered like lit ash around her body.  Cassandra feared if matters escalated, Evie will spark and the foreign magic will overcome her, causing a sensitive situation turn into a fiasco.

“I won’t go back under a heel!” A tall male mage hollered with his staff in his grasp.

“Your kind killed the most holy!”  A lieutenant templar yelled back.

“Lies—your kind let her die!”  The mage pointed at the knight.  The supporting mages’ screams intensified.

“Shut your mouth, mage!” The templar reached for his sword’s hilt.  Evie stopped in mid-stomp, motioning to Solas to ready a barrier over the two rioters. She brought her fingers to her lips, breathing in deeply.  She was going to whistle when-

“ENOUGH!”   Cullen rushed out of the Chantry, thrusting himself between the arguing men.  Cassandra caught Evie’s expression change from rage to panic.  Her staff’s runes glowed to life.

“Knight-Commander!”  The templar stammered as the commander threw looks at both men. 

The man pushed both men away back to their supporting crowds.  “That is not my title.  We are _not_ templars any longer.  We are _all_ part of the Inquisition!”  He pointed at both sides as the leaders turned away, shaking their heads.

“And what does that mean, exactly...?” 

Cassandra winced at the cleric’s shriek echoed from the pilgrim and clergy group.  Cassandra’s lip twitched as her eyes turned into slits.  Of course, the bare peacock was there.  Cassandra briefly grinned, mentally thanking the Herald again for the analogy.

Cullen sneered as Chancellor Roderick stepped forward with his hands behind his back.  The bureaucrat failed to notice the four Inquisition crusaders to the side.  “I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its ‘herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised.”

Cullen opened his mouth as a deep Free March accent called over the restless crowd.  “By going and doing what no one else dares!”

Everyone froze, including the commander as Evie paced forward with her back arched and shoulders straight.  Cassandra winced again, regretting shifting her attention away from the mage.  Her magic stayed close to her body as her staff glowed from her willpower pulsing through her hand.  “To settle open conflict while others stand on the sidelines.  To reach out a generous hand to the people most brutalized.  I just returned from the Hinterlands, a place where the dead outnumber the living.  I found blood, starvation, and hypothermia.  And yet, the only Chantry mother in sight was that woman.”

All eyes followed Evie’s finger to Mother Giselle who was farther down the path with the new arrivals.  The revered mother observed the Herald closely.  “I watched as mages went wild with power, stealing from the harmless and murdering those who crossed their path.  Templars sliced through people as if they were livestock, disobeying orders because they were _enjoying_ what they were doing.  Nobles held themselves up in an abandoned castle worshiping rifts and the Breach instead of standing their ground and protecting those who they were charged by the Ferelden king to safeguard.” 

“I return and _this_ is what I see!?”  Evie walked forward a few more paces so she was between the head mage, lieutenant templar, and Chancellor Roderick.  For a brief moment, Cassandra notice a small smile curl on her lips, and the commander nodded in approval.  “Blood will not spill on this holy place!  We all mourn the precious and admirable Divine Justinia, and all the delegates and clergy we lost.  However, instead of turning on each other, form a single unit to act against the darkness.  We are all scared because we do not know what and who caused the hole in the sky, but we should not run away.”

Cassandra caught a glimpse of movement behind Cullen, noticing a shiny gold blouse by the door.  Josephine came to watch.  Leliana was most likely beside her.  The spymaster probably loved what she was she was hearing.  As she had stated a few weeks before, she had pushed the Herald title across the continent.  Now, Evie was giving her more material to disseminate.

Evie scanned the refugees, clergy, pilgrims, and Inquisition soldiers with bright, wide eyes, pointing at them now with her staff.  “You came to Haven for multiple reasons.  I ask you if you have sworn to this cause, do not question the person beside you because we all have one thing in common:  we are alive.  We are the blessed ones who have not passed over the Veil, and the cursed because we suffer in this troubled world.  We breathe.  We eat the same food.  We sleep in makeshift shelters so we can wake and see the dawn.  We believe in our Maker to pull us through these trying times.  My faith keep me driving onward.  My conscience keeps me level.” 

Evie presented the advisors, specifically Cullen since he was closest with a wave of her hand and staff.  “The Inquisition’s leaders discuss and direct this order with the best interest for all in mind.”  She shifted her staff to her other hand; its runes subsiding in color.  She pulled off her armored glove and held her mark into the air.  It sparked and glowed, but in a controlling manner as it fed off her relaxing stance.  “I have the ability to close the rifts.  I will seal the Breach for good, but I cannot do this alone.  I need you to stand by my side as one voice, one body, and one mind.  We cannot waver or the chaos wins.”

Evie’s burning green eyes shifted to the two men and their supporters.  “Both of you have been chained to a doctrine that has strayed from Andraste’s words.  That doctrine was devised by fallible people.  The Chantry is an imperfect vessel, pulled in every direction by who steers its course.  However, I believe it can be saved, brought back from the brink when so many leaders perished upon that mountain.  We are all broken right now, but it is the Inquisition’s objective to pick up the pieces and rebuild.  It will not be the same life we left.  It will be one forged by us, learning from past mistakes.  I stand by both groups and I believe in your causes, but I abhor violence to make a point.  Debate over an ale in the tavern or huddling over a campfire, but do _not_ draw your weapons in this valley.  A sword does not ask to be forged, and staff is not carved to just to be imbued.  It is the people who wield such arms that are dangerous.”

Evie sighed, closing her eyes as her magic rested peacefully.  Mumble and murmurs rattle from the different groups as they agree with her sentiments.  Suddenly, her eyes flashed open, sending daggers at the cleric who caused this mess.  She strike her staff on the ground as her voice turned forced and stern.  “Chancellor Roderick…”  The cleric remained still, wrinkling his face and glared at the dirty and bloodied Herald in disgust.  He barely opened his mouth wide when Evie immediately snapped like a wolf bite.  “You are the example of the Chantry’s failure.  These two groups are trying to tear each other apart because of centuries of control based on a broken tradition that you cling to like a security blanket.  You know what is funny.  It was not until I reread the Divine’s invitation that I remember she spoke of you at the Conclave.  I did not know it was you by name, but she expressed such traditional clerics had no place in her Chantry.  She surrounded herself with delegates and clerics would all wished for change, a chance to right wrongs during the institution’s terrible failures.”

“You return from Val Royeaux…?” Evie cooed as her voice turned deadly sweet.  “No doubt spreading the lie I killed the Divine and that the Inquisition will bring the end of the world.  I give you one chance to _shut_ your mouth in Haven.  For, if you pour your vocal _poison_ into these people’s ears you will be asked to leave and barred from this holy site.  Find a new hobby:  tend to the wounded or feed the starving.  Give sermons and sing the Chant of Light.  Go cluck by the stables and fluff and clean whatever feathers remain.”

Chancellor Roderick stumbled backwards, dumbfounded by the suggestion.  Cassandra covered her mouth, and Cullen giggled to himself.    Luckily, no one noticed.  “Anything, but your poison.  For everyone else, whoever tries to riot in the village will be immediately dismissed.  This order does not need such filth.  Haven is exactly what its name suggests:  shelter, safety, refuge, and most importantly hope.  I will go to Val Royeaux make them see reason in this crumbling world.  You have my word…”  Evie turned away from the crowd, locking her staff back on her back and stormed into the Chantry, her shoulder brushing Josephine’s.

No one moved for a few moments.  It was Cullen who stepped forward first.  “Back to your duties, all of you!”  Cullen’s smirk was huge as he stepped up the cleric still confused and troubled.  Cassandra walked to his side, but kept turned away to hide her own cheeky grin.  “Chancellor, I would do as the nice Herald suggests.  It seems she will not be the scapegoat you desperately needed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced page Evie was holding at the Crossroads is "Codex Page: Hunter's View of the Mage-Templar War"


	5. ...Human Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse poor grammar. I do not have a beta at the moment. I can read this a thousand times and still not catch everything.
> 
> Changed to the center line to denote change of scene or perspective
> 
> Chapter Song: "Stand in the Rain" by Superchick
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

****Cullen was never more confident in his decision to join the Inquisition than he was in that moment.  He knew he was smirking.  He did not care.  He just heard the most relevant lecture in his thirty years of life.  The Herald had systematically told every part of the mage rebellion they were responsible for everything.  The Divine’s death and the Breach was a true threat, and if they wanted to contribute they needed to shut up or put up.

“Chancellor, I would do as the nice Herald suggests.  It seems she will not be the scapegoat you desperately needed.” Cullen advised, his husky voice filled with smugness.  Cassandra stood to his right, facing away from the cleric to hide her own approving grin.

“I-“ Chancellor Roderick’s voice squeaked like a chicken, forcing the cleric to reach for his throat.

Cullen did not know how he kept from bursting out laughing.

The bureaucrat huffed, pivoting on his left foot and stomped away.  Cullen crossed his arms over his breastplate, grinning ear-to-ear.  The Herald had done what all the advisors wanted to do for weeks.

The commander had been in a meeting Leliana regarding rogue templar troop movements from the Hinterlands to Val Royeaux when a messenger stumbled through the War Room door in panic.  He could not think of the man’s name at the moment, but he hollered about a gathering crowd outside the Chantry.  His lieutenants alerted the commander that there had been some shouting matches in the tavern when someone got too drunk.  He reprimanded several templars already, while Leliana handled the mages to avoid further confrontations with his former role.  Nonetheless, it was a growing issue that they were going to bring to the Herald and Cassandra’s attention when they arrived.

Cullen never expected her to _be_ there.  The fierceness in her eyes as she tramped forward was intense.  Her magic gave off as much heat as the nearby fire pit when she laid out what happened on her expedition.  Cullen kept his mouth closed because he was not sure if she was going to yell at him by her manners and actions.  A small twinkle in her eyes as she placed herself in front of him and the three agitators knew there was no animosity towards him. 

The commander glanced at Cassandra several times, who never sheathed her sword during the entire confrontation.  The seeker seemed prepared to attack the Herald as much as the gathered crowd if provoked.  Following their advisor’s meeting the day before they departed, Cassandra advised him to keep Evie’s magic instability between them.  The seeker and the mage agreed to find a solution to stabilize her magic without alarming the whole Templar Order. 

The knight never intended to tell his former brothers.  He was more ashamed of how he made her feel that morning by the lake.  Cullen never had a moment before or right after the ceremony to tell her who he was.  She must had not noticed him during the rift battle.  The woman had a reason to not remember, but it bugged Cullen more than it should.

Then, the woman was a minx during the advisor’s meeting.  Just like during the confrontation, they both shared similar views on the Chantry.  It made sense because both people spent their lives in Circles, although on opposite sides of the fence.  Her jests at the institution nearly got him in hot water with Cassandra after the meeting.  The Herald was witty, sarcastic, and never sheathed her tongue, an unexpected trait for a noble.  She told everyone how she felt, although only the angry side.

Cassandra’s discussion before their departure hinted to an underlining fear and guilt within the woman.  Cullen never told the seeker about what happened on the ridge, but he presumed she feared templars and did not trust in her own abilities.  The notion was not foreign in Circle mages, but how Cassandra spoke her resentment resided since birth.

 Cullen only had that to explain the scene before him when he closed the Chantry door behind Cassandra.  He heard the gagging first, then the sobs and screams.  Cassandra stood frozen in front of him.  Her eyes stared at the floor.  Cullen side stepped, reaching for his broadsword hilt, preparing for an attack.  His body wrenched to a stop as his mouth gaped open.

Leliana was rubbing her back as the mage tucked her head under her knees.  She tremored.  Her staff had fallen from her back strap, most likely when she tumbled to the floor.  Most of all, the mark sparked violently on her left hand like it had its own life.  She rocked back and forth on her hands and knees as tears trickled to the floor.  Josephine stood with her hands over her mouth.  Her brown eyes wide in shock. 

A few moments passed before the smell of stomach acid reached into the commander’s nose.  He then saw the large splatter of vomit across the nave floor.  He could not see her face, but the sobs indicated she was pouring with tears of pains as the mark’s green electricity arced up her arm and to her shoulder and chest.  The woman must had had just enough time to come inside, stepping out of everyone’s view before purging her stomach contents.

“They think it is so easy!”  She sobbed, fighting the green mystic gash in her palm.  “They think violence… _death_ is the only way to get their voices heard!  Most have never struck down a foe running at them with a great sword or throwing ice spikes at their head!  They shout and scream like they are the only ones that matter!”

Leliana sat down beside her, rubbing in a circular pattern on her right shoulder.  The Herald huffed as the action caused the electricity to strike into her neck.  She grabbed her chest as another wave of pain forced out more tears and sobs.  Leliana sighed, looking up from the ailing mage.  “Josie, can you fetch her some water?  Make sure no one else is in the Chantry.” 

The ambassador nodded, turning towards her office.  “Of course…”

“I might I know what brought this on…” Cassandra’s voice was deep and rough.  “I think she took her first life in the Hinterlands.”

Cullen threw the warrior a look, his lip twitching as anger welled up inside him.  “ _No_ one asked her if she had before this?”

Cassandra’s stolid face remained on the broken mage rocking on the floor.  “In this world…”  She did not finish her sentence.

“We could have counsel her.” Cullen remarked.  “Prepare her for the emotional impact.  All troops spend time adjusting to that burden.  To throw a sheltered Circle mage into that mess-”

Leliana glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes stern and icy.  “Sometimes it does not manner.  It is a life taken, not brought back-”

 “ _Enough!_ ”

Cullen was taken aback as the Herald leaned back, wiping tears from her cheeks.  Her sobs were gone.  The tremors ceased.  The mark simmered down enough to give off a soft glow.  The mage pulled at her nose, before looking over her shoulder.  Redness encircled her dyed green eyes.  Her cheekbones blushed a deep red.  She bit her bottom lip.  Her face stolid and lifeless.  If was as if someone blew out a candle.  One moment, a flash of light from a flame lighting a full Chantry.  The next, smoke and darkness.

Josephine rushed out of her office with a pitcher and a glass.  She poured the Herald some water.  The mage lifted her glowing hand, grasped the glass of water, and nodded.  She took a few swigs of water as she remained on the floor.  The four advisors waited in silence for her to speak.

“It was a rush of emotion and suddenly the mark jolted my heart.” Evie stated.  “It has been a long and harsh few weeks, tiring on my being.  The mark is wearing all of my faculties, sometimes driving my mana wide and others cutting off my draw from the Fade.  It is like I am learning simple control exercises and basic noble etiquette all over again.”

“’Modest in temper, bold in deed.’” Josephine quoted.

Evie huffed, rolling her eyes.  “The Trevelyan motto…too bad I have a temper of a drunk druffalo bull on fire during mating season.  It’s a trait many people don’t know about my father until they invite his wrath.”  She took another sip off water.  “And no, Seeker.  The Crossroads was not the first life…although the first when it was not life-or-death.”

“All deaths in battle are life-or-death.”  Cullen whispered.

“I…I took numerous lives in a lyrium explosion the day my Circle fell.”  Evie’s voice was flat and bland.  “I saved the knight-captain, a few sympathetic templars, elderly mages, and the _most_ of the Circle children…but my first enchanter.  They bled her dry…a stab into the jugular.”

Cullen’s amber eyes flashed opened and immediately met Evie’s intense gaze.  He knew why she focused on him:  their conversation on hunting and cleaning a kill by the lake.  Cullen nodded, wanting to break the stare, but found her eyes intoxicating and overwhelming to his senses like a philter of lyrium after months of stopping his addiction.

“Evelyn, you must control the mark.”  Cassandra’s voice boomed in the empty hall.  “You almost caused a fiasco out there!  Imagine if something like this happens in Val Royeaux!”

Leliana jumped to her feet.  “Cassandra!  I think she knows the pressure, and so does the mark.  I do not think pointing out the obvious is needed.  Furthermore, you want her to go to Val Royeaux, after what just happened?!  Are we ignoring the danger to the Herald?”

“Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea, though.”  Josephine explained.  “Cassandra’s reports stated appealing to the Chantry would not be a terrible idea.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose.  “You can’t be serious!”

Josephine grimaced.  “At the moment, the Chantry is united in opinion.  They can bury us, if they wish.  By having the Herald speaking to them directly can cause them to question the rumors they are hearing.”

Evie kneeled on one leg, bring herself up to height again.  Leliana caught her as she stumbled forward when the mark flickered again.  “I’m more concerned it won’t actually solve any problems.”

Cullen tried to hide his relief that she was returning to her senses, gaining control over the foreign magic again.  “I agree.  It just lends credence to the idea that we should care what the Chantry says.”

Evie’s eyes remained on Cullen as if his face kept her grounded.  “It does not mean I will not go.  I just spouted a great deal of blasphemy out there, but I will not run and hide.”  She smiled at Cullen, then directed her attention at Josephine.  “Just as the ambassador said, the Trevelyans are ‘bold in deed.’  I threw down the gauntlet and intent to stand by my words.”  She sneered at Cassandra.  “The seeker will come with me to avoid a _fiasco_.”  Her attention shifted to Leliana.  “Mother Giselle said she could provide us names?  Use them.  Dispatch and spread what I said.  I want the world to hear how I feel about our cause and the sophomoric shit storm that is this rebellion.  We want steadfast alliances, not murderers and the half-hearted.  I have been put in the position to do _something_ , and that is what I intend to do.  Use what influence we have to call the clerics together so I say the same to their faces.  _Maybe_ , the Chantry will wise up and save their ship before the whole institution drowns.”

“It will take a few days for the clerics to respond to this news.”  Leliana commented.  Cullen could tell that the spymaster was already organizing a new propaganda war on the Grand Cathedral.  The remaining clerics will not know what to do when the Herald does arrive.

“I think we are all a bit tired.”  Evie muttered, looking Cassandra up and down.  The warrior was in battle stance about to start her own scuffle with the Herald.  Unconsciously, Cullen stepped between the two women like he had done with the mage and templar outside.

Cassandra met Cullen’s eyes, her cheek twitching a little.  “I would suggest you find that outlet, Herald…before Haven explodes-“

Evie stepped forward, her face several shades of horror and disbelief.  Cullen sensed through his limited lyrium she was pull her magic back towards her body.  Cullen caught the Herald’s shoulders as she arched her back and readied her flaming palms.  “Herald, perhaps you should rest for the day’s reminder.  You did say you are a bit tired from your journey.”

Evie glanced up at Cullen, her lips parted about to say something, but he begged with her amber eyes not to continue her quips with Cassandra.  After a few moments, her shoulders fell forward and her magic dispersed from its tight grip around her body.  “Understood.”  She sighed, turning away from the templar to face Josephine.  “Ambassador Montilyet, I wish to move into that locked room below the Chantry.  I-it would be the best accommodations for myself, while my cabin is better suited for Mother Giselle and her sisters.”

Josephine nodded, releasing a breath of relief.  “Of course…I will have a bed arranged for you there.”

The Herald shook her head no, her voice sweet and contained noble tones.  It seem her temper subsided with her magic.  “No need.  A pillow and some blanket will be suffice.  At most a folding cot.  I doubt I will need it, but just in case.  Most ‘fineries’ will not be needed.  I did not have much when I left Ostwick, and I _definitely_ have nothing now.   I wish the same as the refugees and soldiers are living with out there.  I will also clean my mess on the floor.  Fesill does not need to see her hero Herald weak and sick.”  The Herald pivoted and waved, putting at brave face.  “All of you, _please_ call me Evie.  At least among you, I wish to feel a little alive and not a lighthouse over a rough sea.  Good day to you all.  A bath calls my name.”

No one else spoke as the Herald slowly slumped towards the Chantry cellar with her half full glass of water.  Josephine nodded, turning away from the advisors to execute the Herald’s request.  Leliana’s face was stolid, although her eyes were ice blue as they pierced daggers at Cassandra.  The seeker huffed as she twirled around, pulled open the Chantry doors and marched outside.  Leliana met Cullen’s dumbfounded expression and followed Cassandra out of the Chantry, most likely to return to her command tent.

Cullen shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.  He was surrounded by four women who held _very_ strong opinions.  The whole exchange illustrated that the group was as tense as their growing followers outside the Chantry building.  Evie presented a united front to Haven, but the advisors were fractured.  The Inquisition’s success relied on their cooperation, but relations between the Herald and Cassandra wrestled towards catastrophe.  Leliana and Cullen disagreed on who to approach to seal the Breach with neither budging on their stance.  Josephine held on the belief they could win over the Chantry, despite their open declaration against the Herald and the Inquisition.  The commander did not know how to approach the situation.  Hell, he did not know where he fell with any of the women.

Cullen allowed his hand fall from his neck, feeling a wave of tremors rise up in his system.  His vision blurred as the Chantry candles’ light haloed.  He did not need a migraine now.  The commander allowed his troubled thoughts go.  Maybe drilling into some recruits will calm his nerves.

* * *

 

“Lady Trevelyan- I mean…Ev-ie.”  A thick Antivan accent sang behind Evie.  “I hope your accommodations are…to your liking.”

Evie looked up from her letter from yet another member of her House, praising her on stopping the Breach.  She grinned, knowing Josephine was struggling with her name request.  She placed the letter on the desk and turned in her chair.  The only disadvantage of staying in the Chantry mother’s room in the cellars is that the desk faced away from the door.  Her childhood bodyguard would have lectured her for an hour on allowing her back being exposed to an assassination.

The mage tiled her head and smiled at the ambassador, who scanned the room the size of a medium closet with a grimace.  “It is perfect, Ambassador.  I know it might seem odd, but after living in a Circle for the last twenty years makes you…more appreciative of having your own space that not every person can simply walk in when they wished.”  Evie knew she was partly lying but it was worth it as the Antivan sighed in relief.  “This can’t be what _you’re_ accustomed to.”

Josephine kept her composure even though her behavior stated she was uncomfortable with her surroundings.  “One adjusts.  I stay busy.  It helps takes my mind from our surroundings.  Ant the cold.  And the wildlife.  And the lack of civilization for miles around.”  She hung her head, sighing away her displeasure.  “Why anyone lived her before we found Andraste’s ashes, I cannot imagine.”

Evie chuckled, shaking her head.  Her hair waved into her face.  She left it down after bathing.  It draped like a short cape down her back, shimmering in light from the single candle on the desk.  She was relieved that she no longer smelled of death and bear droppings anymore.  She falls head first into a great bear’s waste, and Varric reminds her at every turn.  “From my research, all the best treasures are hidden from sight.  Besides, I enjoy the fresh air and landscape.  However, what I would _give_ to go clothes shopping.”

Josephine’s eyes immediately scanned the Herald’s clothing.  Evie wore a tunic two times her size over a pair of Fereldan mercenary fur leggings and boots.  The matching archer coat laid in a pile by her saddle bag of liquor and gathered cloth.  “You may get the chance in Val Royeaux.”

Evie was not sure if she successful hid her disgust, but the ambassador kept a positive look.  “Possible, but unlikely.  I gathered some supplies in the Hinterlands for Harritt to make me some new gear, while I picked up a new set of Inquisition armor.  I want to make sure I look the best when I am subsequently arrested and hung for heresy.”

Josephine was taken aback.  “If you feel so strongly…”

Evie realized she should not be sarcastic with the woman.  It seemed Cullen was forgiving of her wit, while Cassandra just groaned and grunted before muttering that the Herald should take things seriously.  The woman needed an outlet as much as she did.  Evie had not had a conversation with the spymaster directly quite yet.  However, the woman was calculating like her old bodyguard.  Her eyes scanned how many ways she could rip you apart with words or her hidden dagger.  Watching Roderick squirm was one thing, being the one pissing herself when the redhead eyed her was completely different.  The old epigram that redheads had no soul truly applied to Leliana.

"I do not _think_ that will happen, but Father always said I should prepare for any situation no matter its significance.”  Evie explained, standing up.  Suddenly, her leggings slipped from her hips, causing the mage to stumble and quickly grab for the waistline.  “You do not want to be caught with your pants down.”

“Speaking of your parents…” Josephine cooed, smiling a little.

Evie groaned, searching the small room for a piece of twine to use as belt.  “Oh, you must want to know about the seventh most illustrious family of all Ostwick.”  Evie sarcastically sang, stopping and taping her index finger to her lips.  “Or is it eighth?”

“Whatever the rank,” Josephine murmured.  Evie reminded herself again no mockery.  “It would be helpful to claim your kinsmen as friends.  What are your thoughts?  Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition?

Evie knew that question was coming, as she located an old drapery rope hanging on the wall.  She reached with one hand while keeping the marked hand on the legging’s waist so she would not bare her small clothes in front of the ambassador.  “I do not know what to say…This puts them in a delicate situation.” 

Her grabbed the rope and quickly wrapped it around her waistband, tying it close with a knot.  “One, my father probably already calculated for the least amount of consequences.  On one side, his mage daughter has been supposedly touched by the Maker’s Bride.  I might have been ostracized by my outer family, but my mother, father, and brothers never lost touch with me while I was in the Circle.  On the other, he heads a household with dozens of aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, and cousins in the Chantry.  Furthermore, he ships the Chantry’s supply of lyrium throughout the Waking Sea.  The Circles no longer exists, but a significant number of templars remain with the institution.  I doubt he fears their wrath, especially in their weaken state, but if he lost his monopoly, such a trade agreement could make his competitors and adversaries _very_ rich and powerful.”

Josephine grinned, nodding as Evie gave the ambassador her full attention.  “You sound like a diplomat.”

Evie chuckled again, pulling her untamable hair behind her ear.  “I was the voice of reason in the Circle, believe it or not.  Academic debates can get very intense, and I somehow could lower everyone’s tantrums by lecturing on how both sides were being moronic and pointing out the holes in their theories.  No wonder I had little friends in the Circle.  What happened in front of the Chantry was that side of me coming out, although this damn mark is just shortening my already thin temper.”

“What does your analysis conclude?”

Evie beamed.  It had been almost six months since she has heard academic prowess.  “Contact him.  Father might not directly contribute to the cause openly, but the Trevelyans can provide more than just funds.  Send his seneschal a letter expressing how difficult resources are to find so far from civilization.  Of course, be sly on names of specific goods and food stuffs.  They will be here within the next week with the best minerals from some unnamed person from Nevarra, along with workers from Orlais, linens, leather, and other cloths from Antiva, and best livestock from Fereldan.  There will probably be intelligence for Leliana, the best steel swords and armor for Cullen’s troops, and pages upon pages of pledged nobles dying to meet you.  If he misses anything, do not be afraid to send the seneschal another note.  The man has been serving the family since my grandfather was a lad.  He is quite forgetful, but damn good at his job.  Until everything clears with the Chantry, Father will not openly support us, but he will not be able to wait long because my mother will chastise him.”

Josephine giggled, quickly writing down the information.  “Thank you.  Do know Val Royeaux has noted your lineage.  It gives the Inquisition some legitimacy, although not so much as we’d hoped.”

“What happened?” Evie’s voice went serious.  “It is not because of the Chantry, is it?”

Josephine seemed confused by the questions.  “Well, you _are_ from Ostwick.  Orlesians nobles consider the Free Marches somewhat…quaint.”

Evie’s lips curled a little, although she knew something else played a role.  “Orlesians are just baffled that Free Marchers govern without an express to hold their hands.  Besides, I am _mage_ , everything that is wrong with the world.”

“A peasant might get away with that insult, but not someone of your stature.” Josephine’s tone sounded like a mother punishing a child.

“In nobles’ eyes, I am less than a peasant.  You sure you want me to go to the Orlesian capital?”  Evie quizzed, one eye brow perked up.

“I believe the best must come from your meeting with clerics.  Although, I might take your advice and prepare a contingency plan if something does go…array.”

“I will do my best not to make your position more difficult, Ambassador.”  Evie comment.  Her voice fell to a whisper.  “There is a great deal of unrest in Thedas, and the Inquisition is a position to stop it.  I will not jeopardize our mission to restore order.”

Josephine nodded, her own eyes dropping to the floor.  “The full impact of the mage rebellion has yet to be felt.  And that was _before_ the death of the Divine.  The violence must be curbed before we see it turn to full-scale war.”

“You’re right…” Evie sighed, feeling the weight of her duty trying her nerves.  Her back was stiff.  Her eyes heavy for want of sleep, but she forced them open as a shadow appeared on the far cellar wall.  “History holds too many examples of what will happen if it does.”

“Found you, Monkey.”

Josephine twirled around, nearly jumping out of her skin, while Evie tilted body to see around the ambassador.  “How you doing, Varric?”

Josephine coughed and regained her composure as Varric stared up at her.  He must have opened a few more buttons in his tunic so his chest hair drew all attention to its strawberry blond magnificence.  The ambassador struggled looking away as the dwarf grinned up at her.  “Sorry, Ruffles.  Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No,” Josephine stammered, stepping around the man to leave the room.  “You are fine, Ser Varric.  I must return to my duties, so...”

“One last thing, Ambassador.”  Evie called, remembering the beginning of their discussion.  “If you are having a difficult time calling me Evie, you may use Evelyn.  That is what my family and Solas call me.  It keeps speech formal and of a proper etiquette.”

Josephine beamed happily by the door way.  “ _Thank you_ …Evelyn.”

Varric walked into the room as Josephine turned out the door and down the hall, writing board in hand.  Varric’s own hands were hidden behind his back.  “So this is your new home.  You sure you are not a prisoner anymore?”  The dwarf quizzed, nudging his head towards the door.

“My title has shifted to a new form of prison, and with the ruckus outside, it is better to have a few iron bars between you and your potential assassins.  Antivan crows are everywhere.”

“Paranoid much?”

“No, I am saving that for Val Royeaux.”

Varric blinked a few times, nodding.  “Now, I don’t blame you.”

An idea struck the mage.  “Varric, can you kind of send a note to a possible person for a potential secret meeting with me?”

Varric’s grin stretched ear-to-ear.  “I may do it…I may not.”

“Thank you.” Evie sweetly sang, placing her hands behind her back like a little girl.

“Save that for this.”

Evie eyed Varric’s hands as it pulled a parcel from his back and handed it to the Herald.  Evie’s bright green eyes grew wide as she hopped in place.  “Thank you, you wonderful bastard!”

“Eh, I am a slave to my readers.”  He shrugged.  “We are still on for drinks after you’re done?”

Evie nodded, her smile fading as reality sunk back in.  “Yes…I am going to need Lady Montilyet add another item in that family letter, like the best dwarven beers on rotation in the tavern for the next few shipments?”

“Or you can…” Varric pointed at her saddle bag.

“ _Varric!  No!_ ”


	6. False Identities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse poor grammar. I do not have a beta at the moment. I can read this a thousand times and still not catch everything.
> 
> Middle line denotes change of scene or perspective
> 
> Chapter Song: "Precious Illusions" by Alanis Morissette
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he exited his tent, last in line of Inquisition officers.  His captains turned different directions from its entrance to implement his latest orders.  The meeting was the longest yet, discussing the tensions in Haven and his method of curbing future confrontations.  As a group, the men and women determined the most disruptive soldiers and how to properly handle their slander before it potentially escalated. 

According to the officers, most troops were very receptive to the Herald’s sentiments and shared her message to become a single unit to fight the chaos.  Morale seemed higher despite ration shortages and crumbling infrastructure.  Haven was buckling under the increased population.  Most of the valley was becoming a tent village as the temporary shelters circled the lake.  Facilities were being constructed constantly, which left most ridges bare of trees.  The few volunteer healers and apothecaries fought frostbite and illnesses, while workers were assigned to keep the area clean to avoid disrupting humours.  Cullen organized the people by their role in hopes to limit misunderstandings and quarrels.  It had only been one month since the Conclave explosion, but Haven and its people had transformed substantially.

Cullen’s withdraw headache conquered his brain, but he knew if tried to sleep, the nightmares would quickly find him.  Instead, some food and ale sounded appetizing after a long and troubling day.  He marched through the fresh new snow towards the gate.  The commander observed the area, lit by the Breach’s green hue.  Darkness fell quickly on the Frostbacks, and the full moon’s light was diffused by the Breach’s swirling clouds.  He welcomed the low light.  It meant the men could not see his bloodshot eyes and dark circles.

The commander decided to take the long way around to the tavern up past Varric’s tent and the Chantry.  It gave him time to review the landscape and needed fresh air before being stuffed into the very pack building.  Tight spaces made his migraines worse and his anxiety stifling.  Maybe the tavern was not the most optimal location that night.  He remembered there was always stew cooking over the fire pit across the Chantry.  He could avoid Varric then, who would be entertaining the usuals with stories or a game of _Wicked Grace_.  The commander could not handle his insist urges to smile.  He just wanted to eat and wind down.

Cullen reached the fire pit with a large cast iron boiling with grey smoke rising from the mixture, noting a group of off-duty troops around a smaller campfire nearby talking and laughing.  He fetched a bowl and wooden spoon from Quartermaster Threnn’s table and poured the overcooked druffalo stew into a bowl, finding a nearby box along the stone wall to sit and stretch his legs outwards.  He took a bite and grimaced, tasting that the vegetables must have spoiled before going into the pot.  It would not be the first time he has had rotten food for supper and most likely would not be the last.

“That’s bullshit!” One soldier cussed, his echoing through the empty courtyard.  “The mage did it, and that’s final.”

Cullen kept his eyes on his stew, but focused his ringing ears on the conversation.  Apparently, the group had not noticed him when he passed, possibly because of his mantle coat masked him in the darkness.  He only moved his amber eyes left and right, noticing he was in shadow.  The moon’s light did not illuminate his location.  The commander knew he could spy without giving away his position.  The campfire’s soft glow highlighted the soldier’s face as he spat into the fire.  He was in free army armor used before the Inquisition’s establishment.

 “No mage could tear the Veil and cause an explosion that could level an entire temple.” A soldier in clean Inquisition armor explained.  “If that was true, the Veil would have been destroyed millennia ago and none of Thedas would exist.”

“One word:  Kirkwall!” the first soldier hissed.  “She did the same thing here!”

The opposing debater seemed rattled by the comparison, hanging his head as an elf recruit in an archer uniform spoke.  “He is right, Esme.  A mage blew up the Chantry.  A mage killed Divine Beatrix.  Mages had tried to assassinate Divine Justinia before the Conclave.  This is no different.”

Cullen listened, feeling uneasy in his stomach.  Should he intervene?  The Herald had proposed debate, just not violence.  Maybe it was the food making him sick.  It could be the headache behind his eyes.  The mention of Kirkwall did not help in that respect.  However, why did the name _Esme_ sound familiar?  It was a peculiar, uncommon name in Ferelden and Orlais, so why did he know it?

“I can list the number of templars who have also committed similar actions.  Or nobles.  Or Chantry officials.” The opposing debater, Esme, remarked.  “Blood is everywhere, but it does not mean the Herald spilt blood on the mountain.”

“Well, I agree with the Herald that none of this matters, if the Breach isn’t sealed.”  A fourth man entered in the discussion.  Cullen knew his face as the messenger who rushed into the Chantry that morning, alarming Cullen and Leliana about the riot.  The commander still could not remember his name.  “None of us would be alive if the Herald had not closed the hole in the sky.”

“I think you just have a crush on her.”  The archer smirked, causing both the second debater and the messenger to throw each other a look. 

“T-that isn’t true!”

“See, vanity.  That noblewoman would not give you the time of day.”  The spitting soldier huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Rumor says that she designed the spell to make it look like she was some savior.  First, she murdered the Divine and anyone who got in her way, then she appears right when things are at its worst ‘saving the day.’”

“Maybe she should not have saved you from that rift.”  The opposing debater cooed.  “Or given you that healing spell if she was all vane and above you.”

Cullen’s amber eyes focused on the second debater.  He knew that tone with its Free Marcher lilt and tongue lashings.  Cullen placed his half empty bowl on the box and leaned forward, forced to use all his senses to discern the soldier’s identity.  The person wore a hood over their face, hiding their eyes in shadow.  Part of their hair peaked like a long ponytail from under the hood, but he could not distinguished the color in the fire’s light, but it was dark and slimmered.  The person did not move their hands much, looking like they were bound tightly with multiple strips of cloth.

“HELP!  SOMEBODY HELP!”

Cullen jumped to his feet and grabbed for his broadsword’s hilt as the four soldiers scanned the area for the scream.  The questionable soldier acted first, jumping over the stone wall and down the walkway.  The commander took off in full sprint around the wall and past the three stunned troops.

A Chantry sister was screaming to the dark in front of the gate.  The Inquisition soldier Cullen had been monitoring reached her first as his on-watch soldiers scrabbled down from the catwalks.  She was crying, pointing to into a nearby cabin.  The soldier took off again, shoving anyone in their way.  Cullen was not far behind as he directed the scrambling soldiers to keep everyone back.

The commander noted the soldier running into the Herald’s cabin at full speed, disappearing into the dark cabin.  Cullen followed suit, reaching the door.  “I am going need a healer!” a voice inside screamed.

Cullen pointed at a nearby scout.  “Fetch Adan immediately.”

“Commander!”  The voice inside called again.  “And Solas!  It is bad!”

Cullen knew he was right.  “You heard her!  Clear the way for them to pass, but do not let anyone else near.”  He entered the dark cabin as his men jumped into action with his orders.

The cabin’s fire was low and almost embers as he approached the larger room from the door.  He heard someone wheezing and coughing as another hissed and fumbled with something in the darkness.

“Commander, throw a few logs into the fireplace.  I will light them.”

“Understood, Herald.” Cullen replied.  The fumbling slowed down as his words sank in.

Cullen walked to the right of the fireplace, feeling for the log pile, gripped the first piece of wood he found, and threw it onto the embers.  After doing this three times, he reached out in the darkness towards the green light glowing as it hovered over the bed.  The Herald was using the mark as a light as she examined the wheezing patient.  “Ready.”

The Herald snapped her fingers as a few orange sparks appear from her fingers.  She waved her right hand towards the fireplace.  A burst of flame ignited the logs, brightening the room in a yellow and orange hue.  Evie was on her knees, grabbing the wraps tied to her hand and pressing them against Mother Giselle’s left shoulder.  The Chantry mother was rolling her head as she coughed blood.

 “Mother Giselle, be still.  A healer is coming.  You need to keep your stress down to avoid more blood pumping out of the wound.” Evie whispered, using her weight to place pressure. 

Cullen marched towards the door, popping his head out.  He pointed to the messenger from the campfire.  “Bring that Chantry sister who screamed to the Chantry.  Wake Seeker Cassandra, Sister Leliana, and Lady Montilyet immediately.  Tell them to meet us in Chantry in ten minutes.”

“Y-yes, Commander!”  The man stumbled into the crowd as if running away from the angry bear. 

Cullen gritted his teeth, trying to contain his anger.  “Where is Solas and Adan!?”

The gathering crowd split as the apostate and the apothecary arrived to the cabin still in their night clothes.  Cullen moved out of the way to let them pass as he pointed at the crowd.  “If you are off duty, go to bed.  Remaining soldiers, keep this area clear-“

Gasps and whispers filled crowd as a presence appeared behind Cullen.  The man looked to right and down at the shorter Herald as she pulled off her hood, scanning the forming crowd.  She wiped her hands clean of blood with the remaining wraps she had on her person.  “Mother Giselle has been injured…  Sing to the Maker that she makes a swift recovery.”  She looked up at the blond man; her bright green eyes sparking as she struggled to contain her temper.  She tuned back into the cabin.  In a low tone, she whispered to Cullen.  “She’s been stabbed.”

“You heard the Herald!”  Cullen yelled over the mumbling crowd, processing the whisper in his ear.  “Away, all of you!”

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair as he followed her inside.  His mind raced at the implications.  Someone _stabbed_ a Chantry revered mother.  Someone mistaken the revered mother for the Herald.  Someone _tried_ to stab the Herald.  Someone attempted to assassinate Evelyn Trevelyan.  Before Cullen went further, he pulled on the back of his hair, regretting not anticipating this.  Three people attempted to kill her when she was a prisoner.  Why did they assume she was safe in the village with so many new people?  Tensions were high, driving people to open conflict.  He knew she had intervened in that campfire conversation.  One of his soldiers was openly calling the Herald a murderer, and he just watched?!  She should have been at least shadowed.  No, he will not fumble again.  He would assign his two best and trusted soldiers to escort her at all times and-

“Commander, come here.”

Cullen looked up from his spot, seeing Evie eying him closely.  Her arms were crossed over her Inquisition armor as she stood a few paces behind Adan and Solas.  He sighed slowly walking to her side as she pointed at the floor.  Cullen followed her index finger to a knife kicked to the side into a corner by the bed.  He kneeled down by it, picked it up with his gloved hands with his index finger and thumb.  The handle was wooden with a four-inch blade.  Carved into the grip was the Sword of Mercy.

“Templar dagger.”

Cullen stumbled in his stance as the Herald kneeled closely to him, studying the knife.  His nose picked up a breeze of cloves and citrus. specifically oranges, as her horsetail slid over her left shoulder.  She leaned closer towards his person as her eyes studied the knife.  Cullen swallowed, trying to keep his composure as he breathed in her scent.  She lifted her glowing hand to highlight the blade.

The man could not help but look at her face as her head bobbed and weaved around the blade in his hand.  She had a few subtle freckles barely visible on her lightly tanned skin across her pronounced cheekbones and nose.  She wore no makeup, probably to make her more indistinguishable when sitting with the soldiers.  He preferred her this way, natural and bare, instead of the intense kohl and brown eye rouge.  Her eyelashes were enough accents to shape her cat-like eyes.  Her lips were pulp and a soft pink as they morphed into different shapes with her intense scrutiny.  Her hair was wavy curly, not perfect ringlets like his little sister, Rosaline’s hair, but looked like red and dark brown flames.  It fit her and her magic.  Everything about her was a perfect package that he realized he had never fully seen until then.

“ _Not_ a templar dagger.”  Evie corrected herself, meeting his eyes.  Cullen coughed, trying to cover up he had been staring at the Herald.

“How can you tell?”

“The metal pattern-wield…”  Evie replied, pointing to the different layers of steel forming the blade.  “Templar weapons are smithed with two different carbon steels, but not folded.  The high, hard carbon steel makes the edge stay sharp, but it can be very brittle, so it is wrapped over a low carbon steel so it can handle stress and not snap in half.  This one is folded multiple times, then forged so the hard and soft steels make a pattern.”

Cullen stared at her, wondering how she knew so much about weaponry.  She grinned, noticing his confused face.  “My family own half of the mines in Ostwick.  They forge a variety of weapons, including templar armor and weapons for the Circles.  Plus, I have lived with templars for a _long_ time.”

Cullen chuckled.  “Good point.  Someone spent a great deal of time carving the Order’s heraldry into the handle to make it _look_ like a templar was responsible.”

“Or did so to throw us off.” Evie added, returning to her feet, glancing at the two men.  Solas had finished a healing spell as Adan wrapped the revered mother’s wound.  “How is she?”

“The assailant missed her heart.”  Solas began, looking at both the Herald and Commander.  “I would assume they could not see in the darkness and stabbed where they thought it was.  She had some blood in her left lung from a small gash.  I magically sealed the cut to her lung, while Adan sowed the wound close.  We cleaned her airways of blood and gave her a sleep draught, so she will be calm.  She will be fine after a few days of rest and multiple healing poultices over that time.  I will check on her in the morning.”

“Thank you, Solas…Adan.  I will personally collect some elfroot in the morning so this special care does not impact your stocks.”  Evie explained, nodding to both men.  “Commander Cullen and I need to report this to the other advisors.  In the meantime, keep any specifics to yourselves.  Commander, make sure no one leaves the valley unless they have expressed written permission.  You and I both do not want the assassin to get away.”

“Yes, Herald.” Cullen agreed, noticing a slight twinge from her cheek when he said ‘Herald.’  This was no time to argue over names and titles.

* * *

Solas and Adan walked the right fork path to their cabins near the tavern as Cullen and Evie continued passed the stone wall to the Chantry.  Evie carried the wrapped bloody knife in her hand wraps to present to the advisors.  Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, as she kept brushing herself every so often against his right arm.  Her eyes focused on the surrounding areas.  He scanned the empty areas for any assassins who might try to fix their mistake.  She was staying close to him, and Cullen was relieved.  If it was not inappropriate, he would hide her under his coat until they were inside the Chantry.

“You are not going to say anything about the campfire?”  She whispered, bumping into him again.

“Were you just trying to feel normal for a moment?”  Cullen questioned, thinking of multiple reasons why she would disguise herself and speak.

“I wanted to test the temperature in the camp.” Evie corrected, her face leaning towards his shoulder.  Her chin barely reached it, bumping his arm a little.  He estimated she was 5’7” to his 6’0”, so he somewhat towered over her.  Her marked hand almost curled around his bicep as she scanned their flanks.  “I wanted to hear what they are saying myself.”

“Too risky.” Cullen muttered, looking over her head to check her back right flank.  “Your temper gave you away.”

“Your armor was your folly, Commander.”  Evie smirked as she glanced up at him.  “One of your buckles must be loose on your right pauldron.  It makes your rattle when you spoon out stew.”

Cullen stopped walking, meeting her bright green eyes.  They twinkled up at him as her smirk turned into a smile.  “How-“

“You would have had scrub pots if you served under Ostwick’s knight-commander.”  She giggled.  “He was known for his spontaneous armor checks.  I watched him once force a corporal strip to his small clothes because he was checking for rust transfer on his tunic and pants.  They had no idea I was buried behind sacks of books until I got up and went for a tome behind them and returned to my seat.  Received three days confinement for ‘attempting to corrupt a templar.’  At least they let me take the tome with me.  Worth it because the knight was known for boasting about his ‘boot’ size to all the woman.  He must wear a size three because I saw nothing.”

Cullen shook his head, rubbing his neck again as a few chuckles jiggled his loose pauldron.  “Maker’s breath…do you have no shame?”

“Oh, I do.” She tilted her head to the side.  “I just don’t appreciate cocking liars.”

Evie started to walk again, nudging Cullen’s arm with her shoulder.  He met her pace, making sure to resume his protection duties as he towered over her small frame.  They reached the Chantry door after a few moments of quiet.  He nudged it open with his right hand and motioned for her to go through with his left.  She nodded, lowering her head to pass under his arm and enter the softly lit nave.  Cullen glanced in all directions one last time, before following and closing the door behind him.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Cullen found the Herald staring at the floor were her vomit had been that morning.  Her behavior mimicked what she had done by the lake, submitting to his punishment like a ‘good little mage.’  Cullen sighed, squeezing his eyes closed.  He was going to have to talk to her about her submissive body language.  “No, but I wouldn’t do it again.”

“I do not plan to.”  Her head lifted, her eyes filled with tears.  The mark flickered around the knife, as she started to shake.  “They all think I did it.”

Cullen reach forward and placed his hand on her shoulder.  “Not all.  Not some.  Just a few ingrates who have not noticed you are trying to make everything all right.  It was brave to face those accusations head on, but some people will not change their opinions until the Breach is gone, and we find who is truly responsible.  Do not let their ignorance deter you from your mission.”

Evie lifted her head, pressing her lips tightly against each other.  “After we meet with everyone, can you escort me to my room in the cellars?  I am not a trusting person, but you seem like…someone who won’t harm me.”

“Have many people tried to hurt you?” Cullen asked, surprised by her assessment of him and the other advisors.

“Those who haven’t are now dead.”  Evie whimpered.  “Cassandra and I have a dark past.  Josephine means well, but treats me like a noblewoman when I am not.  Leliana…well, you have to be one heck of a spy to serve the Divine.  I would rather not mess with her.”

“I’ve said some things to you that obviously hit a nerve.”  Cullen mentioned.  “Why am I different?”

“I don’t know why.”  Evie whispered, glancing away as her cheeks turned a soft pink.  “But, you bring me a little peace.”

Cullen smiled at the woman, allowing his hand to slip off her shoulder into her auburn hair.  The flame-like curls flowed through his gloves like burning water before he brought his hand to his side.  “I am glad.  Come, they’re waiting.”

Evie nodded, wiping away any tears with her left hand before walking down the hall to the backroom.  Cullen watched her stance shift from the meek Circle mage to the straight back and confident noblewoman.  He had just glimpsed into the two worlds of Evelyn Trevelyan.  He slowly followed behind, watching as her glowing hand grasp the wrapped dagger tightly as her arm swung at rest beside her hips.  Cullen sighed, running his gloved hands through his blond hair, trying not to focus on her hip sway or how some curls bounced on top of her head.

Allowing his hand to fall away from his neck, he registered his ears no longer rang or that the ache behind his eyes had all but disappeared.  His stomach was full and relaxed.  He was sleepy, not from exhaustion but because he was calm.  He had clear thoughts and actually felt a little happy.  His migraine was gone.

Cullen joined the Herald and the three other advisors in the backroom with a little smile across his face, an uncommon face Leliana noticed immediately.  He quickly swallowed and shifted back into the commander whose Herald was nearly stabbed that night.

“Has anyone told you what happened?”  Evie questioned, her voice very stern and direct.  She slapped the wrapped dagger down on the map of southern Thedas. 

Cullen circled behind Josephine to reach his spot across from the Herald as Cassandra spoke.  “The messenger said Mother Giselle was injured.”

“ _Stabbed_.”  Cullen hissed, gripping his broadsword’s hilt.  “She was mistaken for the Herald.”

“Maker…” Josephine whimpered, putting her evening robe closed over her nightwear.  “Where was Evelyn when this happened?”

Evie looked at Cullen.  She leaned her head forward a little to hide her guilty eyes with her wavy bangs from specifically Leliana.  He nodded.  “With me.  We ran into each other when I went to get some stew by the campfire.  We heard the sister’s screams and rushed to investigate.”

“I’ve already questioned the Chantry sister.”  Leliana stated, scanning both he and Evie closely.  She was still dressed in her rogue chainmail.  She must have been working when the messenger found her.  “She was coming to bed when she was knocked over by someone fleeing the cabin.  She must have caught him in the act.  She rushed to Mother Giselle and felt blood in the darkness as the mother coughed.”

“Could she describe the assailant?  His height?  Weight?”  Cassandra quizzed, placing her hands on her hips.  Her tunic was untucked and her boots barely tied. 

“No, it was too dark, and she’s quite shaken up.” Leliana described.  “I plan to speak to her again in the morning.”

“The commander and I found this dagger on cabin floor, kicked aside, most likely when the assaulter ran into the sister.”  Evie described, unwrapping the bloody knife.  “The person went to great effort to make it look like a templar’s knife, but the pattern-wielding on the blade states it is just a normal dagger.  Anyone could have owned it.  If a mage had committed the crime, they would have not missed.  We are taught basic healing in the Circles, including anatomy.  That is how blood mages know the _perfect_ spot to bleed their victims.  Even in the dark, a mage would be able to discern the middle of the chest and not the upper left shoulder.”

“Excellent observation, Evie.” Leliana cooed.  “I am impressed.”

“Ugh, I’m not…” Evie muttered.  “I wish I didn’t know that.”

“So, a dagger meant to look like a templar dagger and an assaulter who missed the heart because they did not know basic anatomy.”  Cullen stated, rubbing his chin.  “Possibly a pilgrim or refugee angry with the current conflict?”

“I would not discount either mages or templars, but it seems so.”  Leliana advised, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Mother Giselle could have been the intended target too.  It could also be a Chantry member exacting revenge on her unpopular opinions.  If the Herald was the target, they never expected Evie _not_ to be in the cabin.  Only those in this room knew the Herald moved locations.”

“But, they know now.”  Cullen’s teeth gritted together.  “Why did we not have the Herald guarded?  After the assassination attempts in the prison-“

“She was.  I had a least one agent shadowing her at every moment.”

“I’m being watched?!”  Evie hissed, staring at Leliana.  “Afraid I was going to run or something?”

“No,” Leliana’s voice and face was stolid.  “I have all the advisors shadowed because we are all targets.  We are the leaders of a considered heretic order.  I will not take chanced on _any_ of our lives.”

“I will assign a visible guard to stay with the Herald at all times while in Haven.” Cullen added.  “To assist Leliana’s agent and to deter any open attempts.”

Evie sighed, squeezing her eyes close.  “I really don’t need…”

“Eve,” Cullen accented her name, causing the woman’s eyes to flash open.  He never called her by name before, but it just felt right at the moment.  ‘Evie’ did not sound right on to him, but ‘Eve’ pleasantly rolled off his lips.  It was striking and primal, much like fire, _her_ fire.  “I must insist.  A peace of mind for both of us?”

Cassandra’s brow flexed as Evie’s cheek flashed pink.  “I-I…s-suppose.”  Evie shook her head, flipping her long bangs out of her face.  Her voice returned to its quirky and rough lilt.  “Just choose someone who will not be annoyed by teasing, understands sarcasm, and doesn’t mind some fireballs.”

“Alright.”  Cullen agreed, smirking at the Herald.  She returned the grin, but broke her eye contact looking away at anything but him.

“I will continue to investigate the matter.”  Leliana’s eyes never left Cullen.  “While we are gathered, I sent word to the named clerics in Val Royeaux to arrange a meeting.  It looks to be held about six days from now.  It takes two days on horseback to reach the capital, meaning the Herald will be in Haven for four days, depending on when you wish you arrive in the capital.”

“Workers are organizing the required materials and tools needed for the watch tower construction.  It will be about four days before a small battalion of troops escort the workers to the Hinterlands.”  Cullen added, referring to the watch tower construction Master Dennet’s guard requested before the horse master agreed to assist the Inquisition and replenish their horses.

Cassandra nodded, approving of the updates.  “In the meantime, we must find this threat and eliminate it, along with any conspirators that may arise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ez-may.” It is an old Scottish name meaning “esteemed” or “loved.”
> 
> When Evie is analyzing the false templar dagger, some blacksmiths call this “Damarcus Steel” today, even though that is a very historically specific type of steel and pattern wielding. Evie’s description of templar weapons with two different steels, but wrapped around one another is similar to how katanas are made. There is a really cool Youtube series called “Man at Arms: Reforged” that utilizes all different types of bladesmithing techniques, if you want to learn more.


	7. Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the views! I've never written a fan fic before, and I'm having SO much fun. Remember, if you have a song suggestion, please let me know!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Atonement" by Anberlin
> 
> Please excuse poor grammar. I do not have a beta at the moment. I can read this a thousand times and still not catch everything.
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

The book’s pages fluttered in the wind like numerous paper fans on a hot day.  It laid open over Evie’s lap, but was ignored for the last fifteen minutes.  The marked hand rested on Evie’s knee covered by her knee-high suede boots, while the other cupped her cheek as she stared out into the distance.  The mage waited over a year to read _Tale of the Champion_ , but her mind wandered that afternoon. 

The cool mountain breeze cooled her blushed cheeks.  Her auburn hair kept falling out of the interwoven braid down the back of her head and neck.  Her wavy bangs batted against her green twinkling eyes.  And yet, her chest felt tight.  She shook, but she was not be cold.  She wore her new medium-armored hunter mail made from bear suede and everknit wool, resembling her gear she wore to the Conclave.  It kept the cold, snow, and rain out, but Evie’s chest still felt tight and uncomfortable as if stuck with an ice spike.

The emotions fear and peace fought within her.

The mark responded to the conflicting feelings, sparking every so often, waking Evie from her daydreams, but she quickly drifted back to the night before.  Her arm tremored with the flickers, causing her to grab her elbow covered by the arm-length suede gloves.  She needed to calm down, but the chest pain never subsided.

It started when Cullen left her quarters after the meeting.  The former templar kept his word and investigated the entire Chantry cellars, including where they had kept her prisoner.  There was only darkness, much like Evie’s disturbed soul.  She kept close to him, eying their flank so no one ambushed them on their perimeter check. 

Once they felt everything was okay, Cullen escorted her to the small Chantry cell.  She discovered before her incognito trip that the room had belonged to Chancellor Roderick, who was very unhappy he was bumped to a tent with the refugees.  He had left some of his undergarments in a chest, sown with his name on the seam.  Both people burst out laugh as she tossed the small clothes at the commander, daring him to hand it to the now homeless man tomorrow morning.  He turned a dark shade of red, stating that she should to reinforce his new role in Haven.

Oh, how that laugh lifted her spirits.

Once the commander said goodnight, Evie locked the cellar door leading down the stairs behind him, placed an explosion mine ward on the floor, walked into her iron barred room, placed an additional two mines on either side of the hallway, and locked herself in.  An Inquisition guard stood at watch at the cellar door in the nave.  The area echoed substantially, so she would hear if someone entered the undercroft, and ultimately caught in an explosion and injured by her mines.  She was in the safest place in Haven.  There was a back entrance below the Chantry, but Cullen had the only key and it was blocked by several heavy boxes behind a locked iron barred door.  It led out into an old path the Disciples of Andraste established to the top of the mountain.  The entrance at the summit had been sealed before the Conclave. 

Yet, once the commander was out of hearing range, Evie began having a panic attack.  Her chest wrenched, bringing the mage to her knees.  Evie was able to crawl to her cell and curled up on her quarter’s floor into a fetal position and sobbed.  Was it because she was alone?  Was she finally bursting from the idea someone attempted to kill her?

No, it could not be it.  As a Trevelyan, Evie’s life was always threatened by her family’s adversaries.  The Orlesians loved ‘the Game,’ but the Free Marches did not hide behind such a silly name.  It was cutthroat.  The city-states’ origins resided in rebellion, piracy, and smuggling.  They were rebellious against the Imperialium, and the people cherished their freedoms.  However, freedom held a price.  Free March citizens constantly fought against opposing city-states and other nations to keep themselves safe. 

The same held true between the noble families.  Her paternal grandfather made multiple enemies with his mining monopolies and trading deals.  Her father made even more opponents when he married her mother and scorned his first wife’s family by refusing to marry the woman’s sister.  Her mother was now a prisoner on the Trevelyan estate, constantly protected with four bodyguards watching all directions.  If she dared left, assassins would strike without a moment notice. 

When Evie was born, the threats of kidnapping and murder increased.  Some threats came from within her own family, but a ‘shining knight’ always arrived in time to save her.  When she was six, the woman was taught basic rogue fighting styles and how to be aware of her surroundings.  When her magic manifested, her two bodyguards cried the most because they were not permitted to join her in the Circle.  They had become her only friends and loved her dearly.

Evie did not mind the Circle in that regard because she had the best protector of within its walls.  For ten years, Evie was untouchable as _he_ shielded her from abuse and corruption.  He could not always be with her, but neither mages nor templars attempted to try to harm her, not wishing to welcome his wrath.  However, Evie knew he was unhappy by the time she near her eighteenth birthday.  She pressed him to move on and think about his own future.  She was never leaving and she would soon undertake her Harrowing.  An opportunity he could not refuse arose, and he followed it-

-to his death.

She was told after her Harrowing not to distract her from her test.  She lost all happiness, knowing he was gone and never coming back.  A piece of her died.

“Rian…” Evie whispered as a single teared rolled down her cheeks.

Her living nightmare only grew after that.

So much pain.  So much death.  The pain in her chest felt like the same pain she felt the day she was told he died, murdered.  Her storybook knight slain doing his service, though in vain.

Evie had lied to the commander to why she felt at peace around him.  She knew why.  Commander Cullen resembled Rian in behavior and action.  He was a man sworn to his duty and would not be persuaded to break his oath.  The commander had left the Templar Order, breaking that specific oath, but she could not blame him.  The Order was a shadow of its former self.  If he was a templar from Kirkwall, he would have seen that diminishing duty being overwhelmed by paranoia and horrible leadership.

Yet another reason the mage needed to focus on the book in her lap.  She ventured to the outcrop boulder in front of the old apothecary cabin to read.  The area was quiet, but still within range of troop training and the occasional person going to the cabin for food stuffs and rare materials.  She planned on completing the book within a day or two so she could sit down with Varric and ask her questions.  She did not want the matter distracting her in Val Royeaux.

However, last night kept her attention.  How she wanted to feel at peace in his presence-

“Where is your guard?”

Evie prepared a fireball and turned behind her towards the voice.  A familiar scowl, then a small smirk appeared on the person’s face.  That smirk with that damn scar.  She could not look away as her fireball disappeared in her hand.

Her chest settled behind her vest and tunic.  She mentally slapped herself as she wore her sarcastic persona on.  “Oh Ser Hugh!”  The mage called over her shoulder.  “Enjoying your campfire and grilled nug?”

Someone shifted from beside the cabin as their armor clacked together.  After a few moments, a light brown haired templar in mercenary armor rounded the corner, eating a charred nug leg.  “You overcooked it, Evie.  Should have not used a immolate spell on that harmless animal.”

Evie grimaced.  “Nugs are not harmless!  They are annoying pieces of shit that need to be eliminated!”

“You already killed five just in the last bell.”  Ser Hugh commented, thumbing down the road to the east gate out of the valley.  “At this rate, they be will extinct by spring.”  He rounded the boulder and froze seeing Commander Cullen standing below the Herald with his hands behind his back.  He seemed annoyed at the knight.  “C-Commander!  I was just getting a bit to eat.  T-the Herald said she does not like being openly watched, so she prepared a fire pit by the cabin and gave me a huge filling of nug meat to leave her alone.”

Cullen’s amber eyes shifted from the templar to the Herald seated on top the rock above him.  She sheepishly smiled at him, waiting for his scolding.  “A guard is not useful so far away, Herald.”

Evie slammed her book shut and sit it under her leg.  “Leliana’s scout is in that tree on the ridge with a bow ready for the first unexpected movement.  She has full view of the whole area.”  Evie called over to the tree line.  “How is it going, Charter?”

Some snow felt from a pine branch high up over their heads as the elven woman readjusted she position.  “Cold, Herald.  Your warming spell dissipated.”

Evie twirled her hands in the air, making a small gesture.  The mark sparked a little.  “Better?”

“Thank you.”

Evie looked down at the commander, who was still annoyed by Evie’s relaxed behavior.  If he only knew she was secretly panicking, but she did not want to worry him.  “See?  I am fine, Commander.  Ser Hugh, go finish your lunch.  See if Ser Lysette and her friend want some the meat.  If there is not enough, oh well, time to ignite some bloody naked bunny moles to damnation.”  The knight nodded, walking back to the fire pit around the corner for the food. 

Cullen sighed, running his fingers through his hair.  Evie swallowed, watching closely as a few strains broke free of his styling.  They curled around his upper face, framing it like a portrait.  She wanted to tuck it back into his style…or mess it up so she could see what his hair _really_ looked like.

“Herald-“

“Ev-ie.  E-V-”

He gave her the same look her mother used when she was pressing on her nerves.  “-I know how it is spelled.  May we agree that I can use your title in front of the troops and populace so not to diminish your role in the Inquisition?”

Evie sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Even more reason why to use my name.  They need to see me as a normal person.”

“But, you are not.  You are a beacon in these dark times.”

“Is that what I am to you?” Evie quipped.  She suddenly felt very annoyed and hurt.

Cullen looked away, waiting for Ser Hugh to round their position towards the troop camps on the other side of the tree line.  He lowered his voice so the scout Charter did not hear his reply.  “My personal views do not matter.  You are currently being pursued by potentially multiple assassins who believe you are a fake and a murderer.  One thing I have learned in the past is that respect is difficult to obtain, and one should not purposefully reduce it once gained.  Many people here see you as the first blessing a very _long_ time.  Do not take away their hope.”

Evie sank at little, trying to hide behind her bangs.  “I understand and I know I must _look_ like I know what I am doing, but you did not answer my question.”

Cullen seemed to struggle.  “Why does my opinion matter?”

“Because if I do not have the respect of the Inquisition’s commander, how I am supposed to win over the population?  Val Royeaux?”  Evie’s chest pinched as the conversation continued.  Why did this bother her so?

“I-I do respect you, Eve.”  He looked hurt that she questioned his belief.  “That is why I came here actually.”

The pinch disappeared and relief washed over her.

Cullen looked down, kicking a stone by his boot.  “I wish to apologize for not announcing myself that day by the lake.  My…questions put you on edge, and I was not suggesting anything by them.  I was…curious more than anything.  No one made _quite_ the entrance you did.”

Evie beamed, placing her hands on her waist and sticking out her chest.  “What can I say?  I made sure I got _everyone’s_ attention.”

“That you did.”  He chuckled, but his smile quickly disappeared as he lowered his voice further.  “I would never suggest you were a blood mage.  You showed no signs on your person, and a mage would not openly admit they struggled with their magic if they were.”

Evie winced, remembering her stupid magical confession.  She slapped her forehead, startling the man.  Cullen stared at her, confused.  Evie tried to act causal despite the red mark along her hair line.  “You behaved the same way last night like you were one of my charges.  I hope I did not give you that impression.  It is true I’ve treated mages with distrust because of it—at time without cause.  That was unworthy of me.”

Evie smiled.  “I guess I acted that way because of my time in the Circle.  Old habits die hard.  Even though, being one of your charges would have been pretty neat, I suppose.”  Her pitch had a little bit of curiosity behind it.

Cullen chuckled, his cheeks flashed red for a moment until he coughed.  “You would have not wanted to say that a few years ago.”  Evie noted how his face turned ashen as hung his head.

Evie leaned down, tilting her head into his line of sight.  “I don’t know.  I would have tried to make you laugh every time you watched a candle burn while reciting the Chant of Transfiguration.”

Cullen’s chuckles grew like music to Evie’s ears.  “Perhaps…”

“If you acted anything like the first advisors’ meeting, the revered mother would have been slapping the back of your hand and shrieking ‘Mr. Cullen!  You must begin again!’  I am pretty sure Cassandra was going explode any moment.”  Evie leaned up puzzled as she tapped her lips, realizing something.  “So…what is your first name?  I always hear ‘Commander Cullen,’ but never anything else.”

“Oh.” Cullen remarked.  “Cullen _is_ my first name.  Everyone knows it because of my time as a templar and it just transferred to this role.  My surname is Rutherford.”

“Ah!”  Evie grinned, lifting her head.  She rested back on her hand as she looked down at him from her perch.  His head just reached the boulder’s edge.  She was fighting the urge to mess up his hair or poking his cute pink cheeks.  “I understand now.  I was confused because everyone says, ‘Seeker Pentaghast’ or ‘Lady Montilyet.’  Okay, Commander _Rutherford_.  _Speaking_ of not obtaining full respect through titles…”

Cullen rolled his eyes, as a few laughs escaped.  “Don’t you dare.  You’re not turning my words on me.”

“Why not?” Evie cooed, tilting her head.  She need to hear him laugh again.  She wanted to hear that beautiful husky sound from deep inside his chest.  “Are you not following your own advice?”

Cullen stared at her with a fierce look.  “You and I are in two different positions.”

“I do not think so.”

“You are the Herald, and I-“

“-the leader of the Inquisition forces.  I don’t see a difference.”

Cullen frowned, sigh realizing she would not relent.  “Do you enjoy being difficult?”

Evie grinned evilly.  “Only if makes you pout like a little boy who isn’t getting any pie after dinner.”

“Ugh…” Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck.  “You minx…”

Evie lost control of her hand.  She poked the top of his head.  “A minx now?”

Cullen waved her hand away and stepping to the side, hiding his small chuckles.  “Hey, the hair.”

“Challenge accepted!”  Evie clapped as he hung his head in defeat.

“Maker’s breath…Please no.  I hear enough from Leliana.”

Evie burst out laughing, holding her chest as she gasped for air.  She could not help herself.   This veteran ex-templar who yelled at troops all day was now as shy as a Chantry boy, hanging his head in embarrassment.  His laughter was intoxicating, but this venerable, innocent man was just plain cute.

“Are you enjoying yourself, _Herald_?”

Evie threw him a look sulking, showing her disdain for using that damn title.  “My apologies, _Commander_.”

Cullen returned the glare, as her pout turned into a gentle smile.  The wind picked around them as her bangs slowly batted against her cheeks.  His glare soften as his lip parted a little.  “Maker’s breath, you have a beautiful smile.”

Evie straightened her back, blinking a few times.  Suddenly, her bear suede jacket was too much.  “Come again?!”

Cullen threw his hand behind his neck.  “I-I meant, it is nice seeing you smile after e-everything that happened last night.”

Evie looked away, touching her face.  “Oh, yes!  I-I guess so.”

No one said anything for a few moments.  The air was tense.  Evie could barely breathe.  She had to say something.  This pinch in her chest was killing her.  “C-Commander?”

“Yes?”

Evie kept her eyes focused on the boulder’s coarse, sandy texture.  “I was speaking with Solas this morning, a-and he made a good observation regarding the mark.”

“Oh?”

The mage squeezed her eyes closed, trying to keep her composure.  Her chest ached and crushed her lungs.  “Yes, he thinks the reason why it may disturb my magic is because of my already established connection to the Fade.  Like, I am drawing more from across the Veil through the mark than I had before.  Combine it with the Breach, and I am an arcane mess.”

“Hm…it makes sense.”

“H-he suggested I practice casting to readjust my magic, to establish an easier pull.”  The tension was relentless as the mark sparked to life.  The crackle must have caught Cullen’s attention because his boots crunched against the snow as he took a step forward.  “But, you said I should not use my magic so close to Haven, so…any ideas?”  He voice squeaked, covering her mouth in embarrassment.

“Hmm…There is a small frozen lake over the next ridge beyond the valley.”  He began.  His voice seemed closer to her left side.  “Behind the rock formation where the druffalo herd stays.  It is quite a walk, but it should be optimal for you to cast without causing any issues.”

Evie struggled to breathe.  She squeezed her eyes tight.  “I know I need to do it before Val Royeaux, but what about being guarded a-and Leliana’s scout?  I want go out there in the middle of the night to reduce anyone seeing me, b-but that just welcomes assassins. I-I don’t normally s-sleep so-“

The pinch!

“Because of last night?”

“Yes!  No!  I-“

Evie only had enough time to open her eyes as she heard the slight _twang_ of the vibrating bowstring as it released an arrow.  The sound was from in front of her, meaning not Leliana’s scout.  Her mouth gapped as she saw the arrow fly towards her in slow motion.  Even if she had time to cast, a barrier might not stop it before it reached its target.  Suddenly, a hand clutched her waist from behind and pulled and slid her off the rock.  She tumbled down as the arrow nearly missed her face, cutting the lower strains of her braided hair as it tossed forward in the fall.  She landed into someone’s lap as a strong arm held her stomach tightly against a cool breastplate.  Evie started to shake uncontrollable as the mark sparkled a few times.  She winced, grabbing it with her other hand and tried to control the foreign magic responding to her panic.

Charter jumped out of a tree and took off running towards the old log fence.  The person gripping Evie screamed behind her towards the troop tents.  “HUGH!”

“Cul-len…?” Evie whimpered through the pain.  Her vision blurred as she felt sick.

“I am right here…”  The gloved hand at her waist gripped her side tightly as his breastplate buried into her back.  A wave of relief washed over her.  The mark subsided.  “I am not going anywhere…”

Evie did not glance right as a new presence jogged towards her, fearing the person would see her tears rolling down her cheeks.  Cullen spoke behind her; his husky voice vibrating through his breastplate and into her back.  She gasped, thankful for the feeling.  “Around the cabin!  Charter took off after the assailant.  Now!”

“But the Her-“

“I will watch her.  _GO_!”

The knight raced behind them as Evie slowly composed herself, panting and gripping her right hand.  Another gloved hand appeared from her right, embracing her shoulders.  “It is okay, Eve.  I got you.  I’m here.”

She was still shaking, but they subsided as the smell of lavender tea, sage, and campfire filled her nose.  She lowered her head, allowing her chin to rest on his arm.  He was warm, protective.

“…a safe haven…” Evie whispered, as she slowly closed her eyes.  His grip on her shoulder and hip was intense and strong.  His right leg laid out beside hers while she sat on his left boot.  He must have used his body weight to pull her from the rock, and they both tumbled into the snow.

“Hm?”

The mage felt his breath against her left ear as he hummed.  Evie could not breathe.  She did not want to.  She did not want him to pull away if she gasped.  Her ears burned.  His stubble tickled the red tips as they remained frozen together in a tense embrace a few moments.

“I will go with you.”

Evie flicked her head back against his mantle, feeling the bear fur tickling her neck.  “Huh?”

“I will guard you while you find your arcane balance.”

Evie panicked.  “Y-you need to rest-“

“I do not sleep either.”

Evie let out the air trapped in her lungs.  “I cannot-“

“Please.” He whispered in her ear.  He was panting against her lobe, shuddering around her.

Evie nodded, bringing her hands around his arm.  She squeezed it tightly as she took a deep breath inward, filling her being with his scent.  “Okay.  Tonight.  On the ninth bell, after dinner at the front gate.”

“Agreed.”


	8. Bathed In Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! I'm currently very sick right, but I wanted to post before I passed out again.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Beyond the Veil" by Lindsey Sterling. If you have never heard of her, she is an AMAZING violinist. Every time I write about Evie's magic, I think of Lindsey Sterling and her dancing across the stage. I used to play the viola, and I miss orchestra dearly.

Every ten feet, a new ball of dancing flames appeared in front of Cullen as he huffed and puffed up the tall slope leading out of the valley.  When he had suggested the location, he thought it would be a tough walk for the mage he was escorting, not him.  However, he rarely heard panting behind him as another ball danced from behind and up the incline.  The trek should have been easy for him without his armor, but the air was biting cold and burning his throat and lungs, or that is what he will say if the Herald asked instead of giggling on his account.

As his boot reached the last flaming ball in the snow, Cullen crested the ridge and overlooked the small frozen lake below.  He glanced over his shoulder to see Evie reaching the hilltop and pulling down her bear suede hood.  She smiled, nodding in approval as her eyes calculating and surveying the area.

“Come…” the mage motioned with her right hand, while forming a fireball in the other.  “Or do you need another moment to get your breath?”

“The air-“

Evie cut him off, walking backwards down the hill.  “-aren’t you glad I suggested you leave your armor?  Did not want you giving away our position…”

Cullen’s amber eyes turned to slits as she giggled in front of him.  Her attention was too focused on his flustered face to notice she was walking into a rock.  Her boot caught the edge and caused her to flip feet over head down the hill to the frozen lakeside.  Cullen chuckled evilly as he crossed his arms over his bear mantle coat.

Evie’s head popped out of the snow like a snow fennec and slowly struggled to her feet.  “You could have warned me!”

Cullen shrugged.  “I was catching my breath…”  The former templar could not make out the obscene gesture she made in his direction.  Cullen heard a few cuss words and muttering as she searched the snow for her staff that had unbuckled from her back during the tumble.

Cullen knew he should not joke with the Herald, but he was just relieved to see her alive again after what happened that afternoon.  Following the second assassination attempt, Evie refused to leave his side until she was in her Chantry quarters and locked inside.  As much as he did not want to leave her, the commander wished to oversee the search before the assassin slipped from his grasp again.  Leliana’s scouts were scouring the mountain ridges for tracks and trails.  Cullen’s soldiers kept everyone within Haven.  No one had left the valley in the night once his troops heard about Mother Giselle, and no one had attempted to leave since. 

The advisors kept any specifics to a minimum, while explaining the search as drill exercises and documenting the multiple passages the Disciplines of Andraste had established.  Most troops and scouts did not know that the advisors ordered detailed passage maps prior to the Conclave.  Of those who did know, the Inquisition was still finding caved-in areas and once unreachable paths since the explosion.  Evie had allocated troop resources before the assassination in clear the passages in hopes to find a new reliable iron mine.  As for the lockdown within the valley, Cullen excused it as preparation for the Herald’s departure for the Orlesian capital in the next few days and manned resources were limited.  Only the most trusted individuals with written permission from both Leliana and Cullen were permitted out. 

The tight restrictions did not mean more people did not enter the valley.  Evie’s humanitarian work in the Hinterlands had spread throughout southern Ferelden, meaning more refugees and volunteers traveled to Haven.  Evie insisted in allowing the civilians into the valley.  Her life meant nothing if she turned away those who needed the Inquisition the most.  When Cullen objected, she simply stated, “Respect is hard to obtain and should not be lost once gained.”  She used his own words against him _again_.

Their banter, laughing, and mimicking tones were becoming commonplace within the short time they had known each other.  Evie was playful and sarcastic, enjoying getting him into trouble or picking on him when he pouted.  She was observant and calculating, investigating the newest assassination attempt alongside the troops, once Cassandra and Leliana arrived to aid her and Cullen.  Most of all, Cullen had witness her at her most vulnerable.  After agreeing to be her guard that night, she sobbed into his arm, her hands curling around his forearm as if he was going to disappear if she let go.  The tears disappeared quickly once hearing the Nevarran’s heavy accent coming up the path.  She took the few seconds to steady the mark and shimmy to her feet before Cassandra arrived at the abandoned cabin following Ser Hugh fetched the seeker. 

Cullen sighed, holding in his urge to grin as he walked down the slope.  She found him someone who would not bring her harm.  Of course, he would not harm her.  Cullen was the Inquisition’s commander.  It was his duty and honor to oversee safety and security.  On an individual level, for her to have faith in a templar, even one who had left the Order, spoke a great deal of how she regarded him.  She never said she trusted him, but he noticed that the woman did not trust _anyone_.  He should not have been surprised she sent Ser Hugh around the cabin’s corner and Charter into a tree.  They were out of _her_ sight.  The Herald did not trust them, thus wished to rely on herself.  She kept them nearby to satisfy his request. 

However, what if she was alone when that arrow was shot?  What would have happened if Cullen did not hear the bowstring?  If Cullen was just a few steps farther away than he had been…?

The commander pinched his nose, trying to push the scenarios out of his mind.  The result would have been the same:  she would be dead.  No one would be able to seal the Breach and the world would end.  Evie might not trust anyone, but she would have to if they wanted her to stay alive.  It was not just about the Breach though.  The thought of Evie dead unsettled Cullen, reaching a dark part of his soul and tugged at his worst fear:  Failure.

“Cullen?”

Cullen opened his eyes to see the mage staring at him with a worried look.  She gripped her staff with both gloved hands.  She scanned his face, trying to discern his thoughts.  “If you are tired…?”

Cullen waved off her concern.  “I am fine.  Just trying to assess risks and such.”

She did not seem impressed with his explanation.  The mage looked away, curling her fingers tightly around the wooden staff.  “I-uh…I d-don’t have to-“

Cullen approached her, noticing the obedient Circle mage appearing with her stammering.  “I’m fine, Eve.  You need to do this, and I am honored to be here.”

Her eyes met his at the sound of her name.  She nodded, gently smiling as her face shifted to relief.  “Okay.”  All the pain and darkness wailing up inside Cullen dissipated with that smile. 

Evie took a deep breath, twirling around and staring over the lake.  “Right.  If you haven’t noticed, I prefer fire magic, and this lake is the perfect dispelling agent if my magic goes array.  I will lay down some additional layers of ice so it is nice and thick.  Then, I will add some spiritual spells to keep everything in the general area safe.  Lastly, I will start the balancing process.  I hope it will only take this one time to get this right, but I know that is unviable.”

“Pessimistic.” Cullen cooed behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder.  “I prefer the term realist.”

“You passed your Harrowing, right?  That is technically the most difficult task for a mage, besides avoiding possession.”

Evie’s head bobbled as she faced the cold landscape.  “This is like my Harrowing all over again.  I passed it with flying colors, but this…” she studied her marked hand.  “There is no tomes, no mentors, and no prescient that I can review and understand.  My superiors always remarked that I should reach for arcane subjects no one else has studied, within the Chantry’s confines of course.  I never imagined a new area of magic would be _physically_ attached to my person.  Oh how much Lydia would be so excited if she saw this thing.”

Cullen wrinkled his nose.  “Lydia?”

Evie sighed, hanging her head.  “Ostwick’s first enchanter and my mentor.  She was an ice mage, so we dueled, canceling each other’s spells in the Ostwick gardens.  Because she was the first enchanter, we got away with more than we should have, but she said she saw potential in me, if I just learned to embrace my ‘gift.’  I think she might have been grooming me to take her position.”  The woman let her words drift away as Cullen slowly approached.  Once into view, her face was red and her eyes sadden.

Cullen grimaced, mentally slapping himself for causing her bright smile to disappear.  “I did not mean to-“

“-I _have_ to embrace it now.”  Her voice was stern, while she tightly gripped her staff.  “You ready?”

Cullen attempted to hide his grimace as her bright green eyes met his.  “What do you want me to do?”

Evie pointed up towards some old fallen trees and a rock outcrop.  “That should be a good vantage point.  Build a campfire and I will ignite it for you.  Do not want the commander to freeze out here.  If something goes array, do not be hesitate to cleanse and dispel my erratic spells.  Other than that, sit and look pretty.”  She smirked, eying the man closely. 

Cullen knew his cheeks were pink from both embarrassment and cold.  Evie knew what her words could do to him.  “U-uh…okay?”

Cullen followed his orders and ventured to the south side of the frozen lake.  He watched out of the corner of his eye as Evie took off her gloves and laid them on the shoreline.  She started testing the ice’s thickness with the blade end of her staff.  She tapped every few feet, analyzing the sound and chips.  Her hand waved a few times in more hollow areas, dousing the thin sheets with a dusting of ice and snow.  Unlike her fire magic, the spells did not come as easily.  Her face morphed and sneered when she misfired or missed the intended target.

By the time the commander gathered a few logs and twigs from the fallen trees and deadwood lying around the ridge side, he waved his hand over his head to signal the mage.  Evie’s concentration was now on the center of the lake, blasting more ice and snow on the area where she was going to stand and work.  The commander sighed, remembering the woman was not as in tune to her surroundings, so he whistled.

Evie hopped in surprise as she frantically scanned the area for the noise.  Cullen was about forty feet away, out of range of a spell, but also not within reach if an assassin attacked her during her balancing.  Already, Cullen was making contingency plans if someone did attempt her life again.

Evie noticed him after a few seconds, motioning her hand in the air.  A fireball whooshed over Cullen’s head and right into the waiting campfire.  It ignited the wood and melted the snow surrounding it.  The mage gave a thumbs up, then motioned Cullen to sit and relax.  The commander did as he was told, finding a log by the fire but reaching over the outcrop so he could stay warm and watch the Herald practice her craft. 

Evie was very open about using her magic in his presence.  She never asked if she could cast, but Cullen contributed that to his years as a templar and her comfortable nature around him.  His past would have made him anxious and apprehensive for a mage acting as she pleased, but Cullen somehow knew Evie was responsible and aware of the dangers.  Most templars spend their whole lives in the company of mages casting and studying.  Magic was not foreign or scary to the knights compared to the Chantry and the general population.  It was only truly dangerous and a threat when blood mages or possession occurred. 

The commander’s experience allowed him to know when a mage was a major risk.  Evie’s first enchanter trained her well, but the former templar still had to be open to the possibility.  Kirkwall’s own first enchanter resorted to blood mage and allowed a hideous demon possess his body.  Evie was no different and potentially more hazardous.  She contained unfamiliar magic that made her own unpredictable.  Furthermore, there was a hole in the Veil and rifts appeared randomly throughout Thedas.  All mages were a susceptible.  He had to remain vigilant.

Cullen gripped his broadsword’s hilt, bringing his shield from his back to his side for easy access.  He prepared his feet under him and against the log so he could lung forward.  And yet, there was pit in his stomach, reminding the man of when he was told he would cut Maia Amell down if she failed her Harrowing.

Maker, why did his mind remember that now?

The former templar pinched his nose as he held the urge to puke.  His thought nearly opened the barred and locked door he blocked from his consciousness.  This was not the time to have a panic attack.  He panted, breathing the cold air in, holding it, and slowly releasing as he stilled his heart.

“Ready, Commander?”

Cullen’s eyes shot to the mage standing in the middle of the lake, calling towards him.  For a brief moment, the woman had wavy blonde hair and very fair skin.  He froze, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and looked again.  The Herald stood where the illusion once appeared.  He waved his hand over his head, then ran it through his hair as the panic slowly dissipated.

“Ready.”

 

* * *

 

Evie could sense something was wrong with the commander.  For the last few moments, he was hesitate and did not smile.  She was pretty far away, but knew when he smiled because a part of her felt like an inferno.  It was a mistake to drag him out here in the middle of the night, but he insisted on being her guard while she practiced.  He was a busy man in charge of a growing army and here he had to babysit a mage who was an apprentice all over again.

Cassandra’s threat came thundering through her mind.  She had to control her magic before Val Royeaux.  They only had two days left before they left for the Orlesian capital.  That almost meant two more days of assassination attempts.  Here she stood in a middle of a frozen lake about to cast fire in all directions, exposed and without protection.  Cullen was over forty feet away and would not reach her in time if another arrow targeted her head.  A stealth rogue could appear out of nowhere and bury two daggers in her back.

Evie stumbled a little as she became light headed.  She had been giving a brave face since that afternoon, joining the investigation with the advisors, while in the inside she was screaming.  It was her childhood all over again.  Oh, how she missed the Circle’s tall stone walls in the middle of nowhere.

“No.” Evie hissed to herself as she clutched her staff, its blade scrapping the ice beneath her.  “Get a grip.  Grow up and move forward.”

It was true.  Evie could not do anything about her situation except what she promised the seeker and the commander.  She did not want to blow up Val Royeaux _specifically_ , although it would be a service to the rest of Thedas.

“ _No_.”

Evie did not need her self-doubt climbing back into her mind.  She was not a malicious person.  She would not harm innocent people.

The mage glanced up at the hillside, squinting as she tried to see Cullen’s face.  He was within ear and eye sight.  She was safe under his protection.  She truly believed that.  Evie was safe under his watch.  He had already saved her once today and kept his word in guarding her when in each other’s company.

“Make the most of this.” Evie advised, sighing and closing her eyes.

All mages summoned the Fade and their mana differently.  When Evie was taken to the Circle, she was not allowed to ride horses or play with the family hunting dogs.  However, there was a part of her childhood they could not rob her, dance.  The Fade was a song in her soul, playing the most precious tune. 

Reflecting back to before her magic manifestation, she could always hear the Fade’s music.  Lyrium sang to her as her family’s templar members drank the blue liquid on the estate, but the Fade was a symphony.  The little girl pranced around the ballroom like she was a fairy as the tune played in her mind.  She wondered why her mother and brother never heard the tune, trying to mimick the song and failed miserably.  Her father saw her dancing talents and requested an instructor on her fourth birthday.  Her teacher was one of the few Orlesians she actually liked, although harsh when she made a mistake.  Evie excelled at ballet the most, balancing on her tippy toes with ease and pirouetted around the ballroom like a professional.

Once her bodyguards saw, they suggested to her father to integrate dance into her rogue training.  Her movements were similar to stealth and climbing tactics utilized by bards.  So, Evie’s dancing took a new shape as both enjoyment and defense.  She dodged knives as she jumped and skipped around the secret training hall.  She bent backwards to avoid arrows and wrestled away from pretend assailants by contorting her body to slide out of their grasp and throw them to the ground.

Then she set fire to her Grand-Aunt’s gazebo.

The tune was the loudest she ever heard that day.  The whole family was at Lucille’s estate for a tea party.  Evie was performing for the guests the newest dance she had been taught.  The little girl blocked out the quartet’s piece and instead focused on the beautiful melody in her mind.  One flick of her wrist as she straighten her arms over her head and a ball of flames shot into the air and landed on the gazebo.

Her performance was over.

Evie lost her family and life, accepting the stone walls of the Ostwick Circle.

However, the song never left her.

Evie discovered as an apprentice she was hearing the lyrium in the Fade in its raw form.  This fueled her mana and could draw from the song to cast.  She struggled at first, but she was stuck in a small room with twelve other apprentices and templars everywhere.  The melody was screaming at her, and yet she could not cast a simple ball of light.

The apprentice overcame the obstacle one evening during Satinalia.  The apprentices were putting on a talent show for the Circle.  Evie was excited to finally dance after being in the Circle for two years.  The movements never left her mind.  She always dreamed about dancing when she visited the Fade.  No music played for her audience as she grasped at the Fade.  Evie twirled and jumped around the halls and flames appeared in her hands.  She used the balls of magic to light her dance, performing a light show at the same time.

The templars nearly branded her for being so careless.  However, First Enchanter Lydia stepped forward, defending her pupil who had been struggling for over a year.  Evie found her center and was safer now than before.    From that moment forward, Evie could only control her magic if she danced.  Furthermore, her staff became a part of her, becoming a vital component to her choreography.

Evie’s mind returned to the cold night where she stood in the center of the frozen lake.  How did she forget that?  Her casting was perfect and controlled when she twirled her staff and ducked and rolled throughout the fight.  Her muscles remembered the movements from the Circle and during her dance and rogue lessons, but why was it so foreign to her now with the mark?  The new magic was a new variable in her mind’s melody.  The Fade screamed and shrieked at her, no longer sounding comforting and embracing.  It was no longer a happy place she could go to.  Solas’ observations from that morning were now clear.  There was no limitation, no Veil to filter the amount of mana she may draw from the other side.  It was loud and obnoxious because the mark allowed her full access.

Evie searched her willpower and heart for its beautiful song.  It was there if she could just filter out the noise.  There!  Just past that blaring horn.  A lone violin drowned out over the drums and squeaking oboes.  Evie walked forward and overstretched her marked hand.  Sing again, dear strings.  There!  To her left.  It was becoming louder, more pronounced over the symphony.  The other instruments fainted away as Evie griped the solo violin.

The mage struck her staff into the ice.  The runes and focus crystal glowed brightly as waves of blue and green danced from Evie’s fingertips.  She twirled her right hand a few times from the staff, then the other, drawing out the ice and spiritual magic like a woven quilt from within her as she began making magical designs into the air, dusting the ice with a shower of snow.  Once the area became slick, she pirouetted away from the staff and continued to burst spiritual energy and snow throughout the lake, protecting the area if her balance went array.

As the violin crescendo in her mind, the mage grasped her staff and bent backwards collected her magic close to her body.  She lunged forward and released a cascade of fire and embers into the air.  The mage’s mind focused on the song playing in her head, while her senses and body kept her grounded in the physical world.  She did not know what she looked like to Cullen, but she felt alive once again, like before the Conclave.  She knew this was her magic, her abilities.  Flaming balls formed in her hands as embers and flashes of light swirled around her as she jumped and skipped off the ice.  Her staff bobbled and weaved from each hand, twirling around her neck and caught behind her knee as she performed an aerial and flipped over her head.  The more the melody played, the more intense the spell, the more focus and concentration.  She was not a danger.  She was not a monster, a murderer who killed the Divine.  She was Evelyn Trevelyan, a former noble and mage who could love herself if she just allowed herself to-

Evie thrusted her staff into the ice.  The blade deepened more than she anticipated as the ground beneath her feet gave out under her.  As gravity dragged her downward, she saw the mark spark to life, the tune in her mind becoming a deafening scream that could bust eardrums.  Panic overwhelmed her senses as her skin burned impacting the freezing water below the ice.  Her suede boots and coat turned into a million pound weights, while the wool barely kept her skin from turning to ice.  She went to scream, but cold liquid filled her mouth.  Her head was already underwater.

Panic wailed up inside her as she kicked with all her might towards the surface, but she could not tell if she was upside down or right side up.  She never learned to swim.  Her ears burned from the cold and her eyes searched the darkness for any sign of light.

 _I am going to die!_   Evie screamed in her mind.  The assassin would not take her life.  The Breach would not drain her will.  It was her own doing.

 _Rian!_ She cried, squeezed her eyes shut.

Suddenly, a tug occurred on the back of her coat as she was pulled upward.  It was not until she felt the cold mountain air on her cheeks that her green eyes flashed open and her lungs started to cough up water.  She was pulled from the water and over the ice to the shoreline.  Evie cough and wheezed, lurching forward and grabbing her left hand.  She screamed in horror as the mark sparked up into her chest and across her heart.

“ _Shit!_ ” A male voice hollered behind her as she tugged at her chest.  “Eve!  Calm down!  The mark!”

Water drained from her ears as the voice sounded familiar to her terrified soul.  It was not Rian, but just as important to her.  “Silence me!”

“What...?!”

“I will pass out, but silence me!  Please!”

This was a templar.  The lyrium in his blood blared in her ears like the Fade’s noise over that distant violin.

-Then silence.

 

* * *

 

Cullen kneeled down by the campfire, laying Evie down by the flames.  He covered her soaked lifeless body with his coat.  He flopped down on ground, his back pressed against the fallen log by the outcrop.  He panted and coughed as he dusted off embers from his tunic and trousers.

The commander tried to process the last moments.  He had watched Evie grip her staff for a few moments before spiking it into the ice.  After casting some spiritual barriers and ice throughout the area, she began to cast her fire magic, jumping and bending in all directions.  The movements entranced Cullen as she spun over the ice and spun her staff around her arms and legs.  His templar senses did not register any fluctuations or issues.  Perhaps the seeker was being overcritical of the Herald-

-until the ice broke underneath her.

Evie struck the staff’s blade into the ice with so much force the snow on the banks dusted the air.  He heard the ice snarl and boom as it fractured around her.  Cullen’s legs lunged him off the log and down the hillside, watching as her head sunk below the water’s waves.  Her suede coat swelled with water, weighing her down quickly.  Cullen ran as fast as possible across the ice, avoiding breaking the unsteady sheet more.  If they both fell into the icy water, there was no one to save them from the depths or from hypothermia.

The commander slid across on his side as he reached the gaping hole where Evie once stood, feeling into the dark depths for anything that resembled a person.  He felt her braids first, following by her head, then her neck to finally her coat collar.  He yanked with all his strength, thankful for his years training with sword and shield as his biceps and chest flexed, pulling the flailing woman out of the water.

Pulling her to safety was a different challenge.  As Cullen pulled her onto the ice, he saw the mark sparking and ionizing the air around them.  For a split second, he could have sworn he saw the Breach respond to it.  He called out to Evie, but all she did was scream in panic and agony.  Cullen continued to tug her to the shoreline, trying to avoid her fire blasts into the air.  After yelling through her screams again, she begged him to silence her.

It took two silences to contain her wailing flames and the mark.  Just as she said would happen, she passed out leaning against him as he held her arms out from her body, wary if he would have to silence her again.  A metallic taste in Cullen’s mouth stated he did not have the strength or the amount of lyrium required to cast another silence at the moment.  Contingency plans rolled around his adrenaline mind of what he could do if she woke and the mark sparked again beyond his control.

All of Cassandra’s concerns seemed very likely now.  Anyone would panic like that if they fell into dark, icy cold water.  However, Evie was not anyone.  She had an unknown magic attached her to her hand that could close or possibly open tears in the Veil.  It seem what she was doing prior to the ice breaking was working, but that did not matter with the mark.  Until they knew more about it, Evie was a danger to everyone and herself.

Cullen hated the realization, but it was true.  No matter the pleasant banter and sarcastic remarks, he had to keep vigil and protect the people of Haven.  It was a templar’s duty to cut down a mage if they became possessed, overriding his personal concerns and doubts.  He will not risk more innocent lives.  His life was filled with moments where too many were lost already.

The former templar reached for his hilt, willing to stand by his vow to protect as Evie squirmed under his mantle coat.  She slowed leaned forward, groggy and confused as the woman held her head with her right hand.  Water dripped from her braids and arms as her eyes shifted to the marked hand.  It sparked once or twice, then calmed as her bright green eyes met his stern face.  She winced, responding to the hollow stare.

“Thank you…” she whimpered, coughing a few times.  “Thank you…for saving my life… _again_.”

Cullen did not say anything, only nodding, watching the mage closely with his hand at the ready on his weapon.  His shield was behind her, but he did not require it.  One slash and he would strike her down before she realized what happened.  Decades of training and preparation conditioned him to do that without hesitation.  Personal feelings could not be a variable.  Templars were known to be cold and standoffish to their charges because they could not afford attachment.  Cullen could not risk the people of Haven.

The commander felt a surge of magic climb around Evie as she looked at her fingers.  “No.”

Evie was taken aback by his tone, unsure what she did wrong.  “I do not want to get sick or develop hypothermia.  I wish to dry myself.”

Cullen gritted his teeth.  “Be mindful of your magic.”

Evie hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut.  “Understood, _Ser_.”


	9. Searching for Worms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post another chapter today because I love the comments and watching the hits increase, especially being so ill and melancholy. I am about ten chapters ahead of what I am posting so you all get new material every day.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Unbreakable Heart" by Three Days Grace  
> This song applies to Evie so much, especially about some background coming out in the next chapters. She is a fighter.
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Added some screenshots of Evie:

[Close Up of Evie](http://pre00.deviantart.net/3c88/th/pre/i/2017/189/9/5/evie_trevelyan_by_thejeeperswife-dbfljtm.jpg)

[Evie in her riding gear.](http://pre01.deviantart.net/f98f/th/pre/i/2017/189/8/1/evie_trevelyan2_by_thejeeperswife-dbflk5e.jpg)

 

Evie kept herself locked inside her Chantry cellar closet most of the next day, using a few candles throughout the room to light the words in her book.  Following the short and venomous exchange between she and Cullen, they walked back to Haven without saying a word.  He silenced her verbally as much as magically.  A part of her wanted to explain why she did not save herself from the freezing water, but Cullen’s tone was stern and his face stolid… _like a templar_.

It should not surprise her.  Now, she was alone and could properly read _Tale of the Champion_.  Varric had been less forthcoming about his relationship with the commander.  Cullen Rutherford had been one of three knight-captains under Meredith Stannard.  Apparently the dwarf and the Champion of Kirkwall, Veronica Hawke, ran into the templar multiple times within her first years in the city.  The blond templar never censured his opinions about mages, remarking they should not be regarded as people, only as weapons.  Evie was only in the first act and wanted to set the man on fire.  From Varric’s tone, the apostate Hawke wanted to do the same.

Evie smacked herself multiple times every time his name appeared on a page, usually in the same sentence as Meredith’s.  She placed her safety in that man.  She had been comfortable in his presence.  He was a templar from Kirkwall, the epicenter of mage abuse that utilized the sunburst brand for the most minor offences.  To think that some Trevelyan members looked at Kirkwall as the model of what Circles _should_ be.  Thank goodness her father kept them in check or they would have gladly joined Rutherford and Stannard in their tyrannical ranks.

What bothered Evie the most is that the blond Fereldan actually convinced her to believe in him.  He was handsome and charming with the most intoxicating laugh she as even heard, but it was just deception.  How many women mages were tricked with such false senses of security?  He was just like Cassandra, deceitful members of the Chantry who utilized their abilities and authority over mages for personal gains.  It was clear Evie could not trust anyone here, only herself.

Yet, her chest felt tight as tears rolled down her cheeks.  The woman hugged herself as the mark sparked, responding to her sorrowful emotions.  Evie could never trust.  Even if the Inquisition gave her safe harbor, she could not be open.  It was for their own good.   If she allowed herself to care about any of them, fate would cut them down or turn them against her. 

Evie awoke from her crying when she recognized Josephine’s voice echoing off the cellar walls.  The room was below her office, so she overheard the ambassador’s meetings the last two days.  Her tone was rough and flustered.  Whoever was in her office gave her a hard time.

Evie sighed, wiping away the few remaining tears.  She stood up, grasping her book in her hand, and set it on her desk before searching her pockets for her key.  She unlocked the room, relocking the barred gate behind her before dispelling her explosion mines.  The mage placed the skeleton key back into her trouser pocket when she realized Cullen also had a key to the room and the cellars.  She nearly puked until her mind reminded her that it was no different from the Circle.  Templars always held the keys, the real control.

Evie sighed, rolling her eyes.  “I am getting sick and tired of being a prisoner…”

 

* * *

 

Evie nudged the ambassador’s door open slowly, preparing her hand for a fire spell.  A man in a stupid plaidweave costume and a yellow mustache mask stood in front of Josephine, who gripped her writing tablet tightly.  The Antivan nearly lost her patience as the man continued to argue with her.

“The Inquisition _cannot_ remain, Ambassador, if you can’t prove it was founded on Justinia’s orders.”  Evie winced, noting the horrific accent immediately.  The clown costume should have told her it was an Orlesian, but she always hesitated on calling someone an imperial buffoon until she heard that _outrageous_ accent.

Josephine sighed, waving her quill pen in front of her.  “This is an inopportune time, Marquis.  More of the faithful flock here every day.”  Josephine’s eyes locked onto Evie, smiling.  “But allow me to introduce you to the brave soul who risked her life to slow the magic of the Breach.  Enchanter Trevelyan, may I present the Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia’s greatest supporters.”

Evie did not have time to react as the marquis’ fury shifted from the ambassador to her.  “And rightful owner of Haven.  House DuRellion lent Justina these lands for a pilgrimage.  This ‘inquisition’ is not a beneficiary of the arrangement.”

 _Of course not_.  Evie thought, wondering if taking her chances against everyone who called her a murderer would have been the easier option a month ago.  The mage crossed her arms over her white tunic.  “This is the first I’ve heard of Haven having an owner outside the Chantry.”

“My wife, Lady Machen of Denerim, has claim by ancient treaty with the monarchs of Ferelden.  We were honored to lend its use to Divine Justinia.  She is…she was a woman of supreme merit.  I will not let an upstart order remain on her holy grounds.”

Evie wished she never left her closet.  An Orlesian married to a Fereldan utilizing an ancient treaty to allow the Divine to make a pilgrimage site now in ruin.  “Well, there is multiple ways we can handle this, Marquis.”  Josephine threw Evie a look, noticing that tone of voice immediately.  She used the same pitch in front of the Chantry two days before.  The Antivan’s dark brown eyes screamed to hold her tongue, but Evie was already in a pissy mood.  She did not need some masked banana throwing his pompous nobility around like he was in the Imperial court. 

“One, I can partition the Fereldan crown to go through it archives for a treaty with an Orlesian, _if_ it still exists since you know, the city _burned_ following the last Blight.  I bet King Alistair and his uncles would _really_ appreciate knowing part of the kingdom was now owned by an Orlesian.  The Landsmeet would really embrace your wife after that.  Two, you can have Empress Celene partition on your behalf to the Fereldan crown to remove this order.  I will inform you that it was developed by Divine Justinia as a contingency plan if the Conclave did not succeed.  I would say having everyone _die_ in an explosion was the right call by her Right _and_ Left Hands to declare Justinia’s Inquisition.  If you _really_ want to call Seeker Pentaghast a liar, I would personally warn you that is _not_ the wisest option.  It would surely end in a duel at dusk.  Furthermore, I think the empress is trying to protect her own throne at the moment and would not want to start _another_ war with its former territory on top of a civil war.”

The marquis went to speak, but Evie thrusted her marked hand up, demonstrating its glow corresponding with her anger.  “Three, you can allow us to remain here for a little while longer as we seal the Breach.  If you know how to close the Breanch, please allow us to move before you _fuck up_ Thedas.  If not, you can state to your neigh-sayer how you are protecting Justinia’s faithful as they mourn her lost and providing for the less fortunate like a true, devout Andrastian.  Your workers would embrace you, working diligently knowing their lord is kind and generous.  _Or_ you can turn out the hungry, the poor, and the injured out into the snow and have all your peasants riot and rob you blind.  I know how much Orlesians _love_ peasant riots.  It is up there with massacring an entire elven alienage.”  Evie shrugged.  “But, what do I know?”

The nobleman blinked beneath his mask, trying to process all the scenarios Evie spelled out.  Josephine took the opportunity to dampen Evie’s rant.  “We face a dark time, your grace.  Divine Justinia would not want her passing to divide us.  She would, in fact, trust us to forge new alliances to the benefit of all, no matter how strange they might seem.”

The marquis sighed, shaking his head.  “I’ll think on it, Lady Montilyet.  The Inquisition _might_ stay in the meanwhile.”

Josephine nodded at the marquis, while glaring at Evie.  Evie kept her abrasive attitude, still not impressed with the marquis’ response.  “Well, with that happy ending, I shall leave you then.  Ambassador, I am going to see how Mother Giselle is doing.  Can you please have my dinner delivered downstairs?  I wish to limit the number of ingrates I see before Val Royeaux.”  Her bright green eyes flickered at the noble, making sure he noted her dig.

“Of course, Herald.” Josephine whimpered.  Evie knew she created the largest diplomatic shit storm for the ambassador, but the mage could not handle any more absurdity.  Evie nodded at both individuals before pivoting on her left foot and walking out of the office as fast as possible before she set everything on fire.

 

* * *

 

“Ir tel’him, Solas.” An agitated voice called behind the apostate from the cabin door.  The voice accented the wrong words, but the attempt was worth noting.

Solas did not need to see the person’s face.  “Aneth ara, Evelyn.  Who has angered you today?”

“An Orlesian noble who was dressed like a banana demanding everyone leave Haven…” the Herald hissed, walking up behind him as he tended to his patient.

The elven apostate knew for the few short exchanges he had with the Herald that the woman was short tempered and outspoken.  In their first exchange after she first awoke, they debated on spirits and demons in the Fade.  What started as a heated academic discussion turned into a nice conversation with the Herald leaving with a different opinion.  She not unreasonable, if given a proper argument, just kept sheltered from other magical beliefs by the Circle.

While in the Hinterlands, Solas grew to appreciate her as Evie helped those less fortunate and did all in her power to lessen their burdens.  The woman tried her best to fight the mark’s magic, especially after closing a rift.  Solas advised her through meditations and mantras, but it rarely helped.  She struggled with the pain, but kept pushing forward.  One way she thought to distract herself was to learn elvehn.  The mage had always wanted to learn so she could utilized elven texts and tomes, but none of the city elves in her Circle knew it either. 

Evie was not a hubris person, just hot tempered, mistrusting, and anxious.  Hearing that a noble threatened the refugees, the elven mage was more surprised he had not been called to heal the man after Commander Cullen was forced to drag the Herald away in chains.

“Breathe, Evelyn.”  Solas cooed as he pulled back Mother Giselle’s bandage to look at the wound.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the mark arcing across her hand, reacting to her emotions.

 “Fuck breathing.  Where is the fucking alcohol!?”  The Herald hissed, but quickly covered her mouth when she realized Mother Giselle stared up at her.  “Good afternoon, Revered Mother…”  Her pitch was sweet and innocent.

Mother Giselle smiled, horrified and amused by Evie’s outburst.  She had not dressed that day, remaining her bed robes.  The day before, the cleric mother slept and rested at Solas’ request.  She had only woken when the elven apostate came a few moments before Evie to check on the patient.

“Good afternoon, Herald.” Mother Giselle replied, wincing as Solas cleaned her wound.  “I have yet thanked you for saving my life two nights ago.  They say you were first to respond.”

“I fear I might be the reason why you were attacked, Revered Mother.” Evie explained, hanging her head.  “It is believed that I was the intended target.  You should actually thank your fellow sister.  She found you when she came to bed.”

Mother Giselle looked at the Herald confused, then Solas.  “My sister was coming to bed?  That cannot be right.  My sisters who journeyed with us are staying in the refugee camps.  I was going to join them the next morning, knowing I could provide better consul there, but it was too late to request another tent so I stayed here upon your invitation.”

Solas glanced up at the Herald, who was crossing her arms over her chest.  “It seems that there is more to this mystery than previously realized.”

Evie grimaced.  “So it seems.  Tell me, Mother Giselle.  Why were you not at the Conclave?  I noticed Divine Justinia’s letter in your quarters in the Hinterlands.  You would have been very beneficial at the negotiations.”

“I received my invitation much too late.  The carrier was held up by rebellion skirmishes on the roads.  He arrived the day before the Conclave started.”  The revered mother explained, noticing Evie’s unnerved face.  “I told the carrier to tell Justinia that I would not be able to arrive in time, but would reach out to her Hands…then the Breach occurred and the conflict at the Crossroads escalated.”

“But you would have been there, if you received the invitation in time.”

“Of course.  Justinia and I shared similar beliefs regarding the war.  No one more than us wished for the conflict to end.”

Solas knew that look in Evie’s eye.  She had the same look when she discovered one of the Inquisition’s scouts, Ritts, being attacked by templars.  After investigating a dead mage nearby and the small picnic beside her body, she confronted the scout.  The four party members left the scene with a new agent who excelled in espionage.  Apparently, the agent was becoming one of Sister Nightingale’s best.

Solas rose to his feet, catching Evie’s eye as she finished her thought process.  “One last question and then I shall let your healer finish his work and you can rest.  Who else knew you were staying in this cabin?”

“My sister clerics, you, and your advisors.”

“No one else?”

“I told the other sisters here in Haven that they come and speak to me, if they wish.”  Mother Giselle added.  “I wished to know what was being done for the refugees and pilgrims here, but no one came.”

Evie nodded.  “Thank you.  I ask you and Solas to keep this to yourselves.  Something seems off the last few days, and I wish to keep it confined until it is resolved.”

“Of course, Evelyn.” Solas replied, forming similar conclusions as Evie by the glimmer in her eyes.  “Remember to keep yourself calm and safe.”

Evie nodded, wrinkling her nose.  “I am the safest person here, Solas.”  She sang sarcastically.

 

* * *

 

Evie waited patiently for her dinner as she reviewed the last few meetings.  Following her discussion with Solas and Mother Giselle, she went to speak to Leliana.  Sister Nightingale had been in prayer, questioning the Maker, then quizzed Evie on what the Maker’s messenger said about everything.  The mage did not need another advisor being rough with her, so she deflected the question, stating she was simply a woman with her own conscience and mind.  Leliana did not appreciate the response, mentioning how she thought she was blessed during the Blight and Justinia was her mentor.  Now, she knew better.  Her good friend was dead, the great Hero Queen of Ferelden was missing, and no one knew who destroyed the Conclave.

Apparently, everyone was becoming unhinged.

Finally finding a way to break the spymaster’s rant without getting a dagger to her throat, Evie interjected that more good people could die if the _assassins_ were not caught.  The mage laid out her suspicions that Mother Giselle might have been the original target after all.  Leliana had reached a similar conclusion once she investigated the Chantry sister who had cried for help that night.  The woman was elusive and was avoiding the Left Hand of the Divine, but Leliana had her followed. 

Leliana expressed the suspicious Chantry sister kept very questionable friends, many of which were connected to Grand Cleric Iona, one of the most outspoken critics of the Inquisition, Divine Justinia, and Mother Giselle.  The grand cleric believed Mother Giselle might be competition to become Divine.  The woman believed Giselle could lead the Chantry down a heretical course, just like Divine Justinia.  The spymaster was currently searching for evidence to connect the grand cleric to the crime.  However, it did not explain why there was a templar heraldry on the knife.

Evie felt relieved that one assassin was within their grasp, but it meant the one after her life was still free.  There was very little evidence from yesterday.  The arrow was the same used by the Inquisition.  The searches around Haven and the old passages gave no clue to the person’s identity.  The assailant’s snow footprints were difficult to distinguish once they reached the troop tents.  The individual blended into the Inquisition, meaning they were dressed in the order’s armor or heraldry.  Cullen swore to her that he would personally keep her safe.

 _Cullen_.

Evie rubbed her eyes, feeling the daggers in her chest again.  That sonofabitch.  His words and actions were opposites.

“Herald Evie?”

Evie glanced at the door, noticing Ser Hugh holding a tray of food on the other side of the iron door.  The mage nodded, remembering a time in solitary confinement when a templar threw her bread and milk in her face before turning away, laughing.  The mage pointed downward, notifying the guard to place her tray on the floor in front of the door.

“O-okay…”  Ser Hugh stammered, doing as he instructed.  As leaned back up, his armor rattled much like Cullen’s pauldron did the night by the campfire.

Evie grimaced, realizing the man was not leaving her closet.  “Anything else?”

Ser Hugh was taken aback by her growl.  “U-uh.  Just wondering…you are from the Circle in Ostwick?”

The words fell out of Evie’s mouth like a waterfall.  “Would you prefer I stayed locked away, like a good mage?”

Ser Hugh winced, glancing away.  “I didn’t—I only meant to make conversation.  I only noticed you have been alone all day and thought you would like some company.  A poor choice of topic, given our pasts.”

Evie sighed, thumping her head against a bookcase to her left.  She was taking out her frustrations on someone who did not rightly deserve her abuse.  Ser Hugh briefly appeared in Varric book when he was a recruit.  Apparently, the Champion helped recuse a templar recruit named Keran.  Hugh was helpful and provided information about Meredith’s strange behavior.  Evie must have reacted to his question poorly because Cullen was involved.  Rutherford fought one of his recruits when he turned into an abomination.  The knight-captain only accepted Keran back into the Order under the pretense he watch the templar recruit for possession.  He suspected everyone involved was exposed to blood magic.  Apparently, his paranoia was not just limited to mages.  It seemed like _anyone_ could be a blood mage to him.

“My apologies, Hugh.” Evie sighed, faintly smiling at the templar.  “It has been a trying few days.  Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Hugh beamed, nodding.  He kneeled down by Evie’s tray, trying to see the mage better through the bars.  “Of course.”

“You come from Kirkwall, no?”  Evie acted dumb because the man did not need to know she was reading, _Tale of the Champion_.

Ser Hugh grimaced.  “Unfortunately…I joined the commander with a few other former templars when he was recruited to the Inquisition.  After the Chantry explosion and the blood magic, many templars wanted to be anywhere but in that horrific place.  I was one of the lucky ones.  By the time everything fell apart, I was working with Captain Aveline of the City Guard as collaborator between the templars and the local authority.  I did not witness as much as my fellow brothers did.  Commander Cullen appreciated my role once he became Knight-Commander.  Kirkwall would have fallen into the sea if it wasn’t for Viscount Hawke, the City Guard, and the templars worked together to rebuild the city.”

Evie nodded, understanding why Cullen had chosen the man as her guard.  He was used to working with mages and mediating between multiple groups, thus he would not intentionally upset her.  Cullen trusted this man during a time when the city-state crumbled.  Now, he was trusting him to protect the Herald of Andraste.

“Ah…”  Evie cooed, feeling even more ashamed by her outburst.  Still, Cullen’s attitude towards her the day before bugged her.  “I am trying to figure out the commander.  The man worked with Meredith and really seems like he mistrusts mages.”

Ser Hugh nodded.  “He used to.  Meredith was…messed up.  Towards the end, Cullen was trying to shield the younger templars from her rhetoric.  The Champion warned him repeatedly about abuse, but a templar is trained to be obedient, never question orders.  We all believed in our duty.  When Cullen finally turned against the knight-commander, he apologized profusely for his slow actions, determined to atone.”

“Do you think that is why he left the Order?”

Ser Hugh sighed, “Herald, that is why _most_ of us left the Order and joined the Inquisition.  Duty, honor…it was all a fallacy.  Your speech a few days ago…you truly believe in what we are doing.  It gives us all a chance for redemption and purpose, especially for the commander.”

Evie stood up, pulling her skeleton key from her pocket.  “I do not think the commander particularly likes me because I am a mage.”  She unlocked her barred door, eying her tray by the templar.

“I disagree.” Ser Hugh remarked.  Evie met his dark blue eyes as he continued to speak.  “You being a mage…it gives us templars a reality lesson on how a mage _can_ do good, if given a chance.  If you got that impression of Commander Cullen, do not take it personally.  We are fighting a prescient that been engrained in our minds since our youth.  Even you did the same.  You saw me just a few moments ago as a jailer.  I am not that.  I never wanted to _be_ that.  I want to protect people.  You said yourself that we are forming a new world.  Hopefully, in this world, mage and templars work together than loath one another.”

Evie pulled the key from the lock and opened the door open.  She sat down by the templar.  She grabbed the small roll on her tray and pulled it apart.  With her left hand, she offered the bread.  “Thanks for schooling me, Ser Knight.  I needed to hear that.”

Ser Hugh grinned, taking the bread.  “Just repeating your own words.”

Evie sighed, dunking her piece of bread into the porridge.  “No wonder he was so annoyed.”  She bit the oat covered bread.

Evie froze, tasting sweetness as the bite slid down her throat.  Evie glanced at the porridge, noticing bits of black mesh stirred in with the water.  The mage jumped to her feet, kicking the tray over.  She rammed her index finger down her throat, wiggling it to induce her gag reflex.  It was difficult, but she needed to remove the food from her stomach.

Ser Hugh watched in horror as she dropped his piece of bread and tried to assist the Herald.  Evie punched her stomach, causing acid to purge all over the food.  She met the templar’s eyes, mumbling one thing.  “Adan!  Now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grand Cleric Iona is a War Table mission if The Chantry Remains is unsuccessful.
> 
> From Dragon Age 2, Act 1 Mission, “Enemies Among Us.”
> 
> In Dragon Age 2's Act 2 and 3, Ser Hugh is seen wearing white and red guard armor, instead of templar armor despite being a full templar by then.


	10. Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: I probably will not post tomorrow, especially since this chapter wraps up a few things. I am still pretty sick and writing has been very difficult. I am playing Inquisition for the 10,000th time and told myself I cannot start a romance with Cullen until I get some more chapters completed. It is proving to be quite the motivator!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Roundtable Rival" by Lindsey Sterling

“Honest, Lady Herald!  I did not do this!”

Cullen burst through the apothecary cabin’s door, panting and scanning the room.  His amber eyes were immediately drawn to Evie, puking and gagging into a bucket.  Every few gags, she reached for another bottle from Adan, who stood to her left.  She took the orange potion like a shot of strong liquor, swallowed, and waited.  Within a few seconds, she was puking into the bucket again, repeating the process.

The commander studied the rest of inhabitants in the cabin.  Leliana stood over a young elf woman with short brown hair, kneeing and bowing in front of the Herald.  Sister Nightingale grasped her shoulder.  Solas stood at the potions stand, making a new mixture.  He seemed like the calmest person in the room as he ground some herbs in a mortar and pestle.  Ser Hugh stood behind Evie, resting his arm against her chair to lean over her head.  Josephine was to her right, the first to realize Cullen had arrived.  She waved him in, her face filled with concern and panic.

“What happened?” Cullen’s voice boomed throughout the room.  He ran a drills with his recruits when that one messenger he could never remember his name nearly tripped him and begged him to go to the apothecary.

“Someone nearly poisoned the Herald, Sir.” Ser Hugh replied, stilling himself as Evie retched again.

Cullen’s angered face focused on the elf on the floor.  He had seen her around the Herald since she awoke a month ago.  The young woman was shaking, clutching her hands together as she bowed back and forth.

“You must believe me!”  The elf cried, tears welling up in her eyes.  “I prepared her meal, but I was called away by the cook for only a few seconds.”

“I-I…believe you.” Evie looked like she was a corpse with an ashen face, sunken in cheeks, and dark circles under her eyes.

Cullen swallowed, remembering her face in the darkness the night before.  He never spoke about what happened at the lake, but he refused to allow his personal feelings to cloud his vow to protect the innocent.  Evie did dry herself with a spell, although slowly not to upset the former templar.  She was shaking and could barely stand by the time they arrived in Haven.  She kept his coat until they were back in the Chantry.  She threw it at him, soaked in ice cold water as she went to her room in the cellar.  Her hands were nearly blue and water dripped from her undone braids.  The commander winced, wondering if her ill face was from the poison or her exposure the night before.

“We cannot be sure, Herald.” Leliana hissed until Evie waved towards the elf’s clutched fists.  “Open your hands.”  The spymaster ordered.  The elf slowly unwoven her fingers, showing a pair of sweating palms, but nothing more worth noting.  “I see.”

“Sister?” Ser Hugh called, confused by the change in attitude.

“Her hands would have been stained red or agitated from the mixture.”  Leliana remarked, eying the Herald.  Adan handed her water this time, while Solas poured his mixture into a bottle.  “The poison was mixed into her porridge.  Nightshade berries mashed into the water and oats.  Physical contact causes the berries to stain and redden the hands, even with gloves.”

Nightshade. Cullen was not familiar with poisons, but nightshade could be found in most plants.  Common produce actually grew on nightshade plants, such as potatoes and tomatoes.  The actual vegetable was edible, but the leaves, stems, and some berries contain the harmful toxins.

Evie gulped down the water, rinsing her mouth of vomit and then spat it back into the fowl smelling bucket.  She hesitated when Solas handed her an unfamiliar potion.  “The a-assassin…”  The Herald cleared her throat, wincing as she swallowed.  She outstretched her left hand, grasping Solas’s potion.  “…did not have a great deal of time.  I tasted the berries’ sweetness with my first bite.  If they had mixed the porridge more or if I allowed it to sit any longer, I would have not known until it was too late.”

“You are familiar with nightshade?” Cullen asked, receiving a fierce look from the woman.  She gulped Solas’ potion, never breaking contact with the commander.

“If you must know, _Ser_ , I was poisoned when I was six at my mother’s birthday celebration.” Evie’s words were harsh and rough, digging into his heart like a thousand needles.  He was on her hate list.  “I drank from my mother’s wine glass, thinking it was grape juice.  Next thing I know, I woke up surrounded by healers, puking my guts out.  I will never forget that sweet taste.  I never drink red wine because of that experience.”

“You did well to make yourself vomit, Evelyn.”  Solas commented.  “The potion you just drank will neutralize any remaining toxins in your system.  The more you keep calm, the less the poison will circulate in your body.”

“Ha!”  Evie laughed once.  “I am so fucking angry, I could annihilate an entire nug colony.”

Leliana grimaced, gritting her teeth.  “Let’s avoid punishing innocent creatures…”

Evie rolled her eyes.  She returned her focus on the elf.  “Fesill, when you went to speak with the cook, was there anyone else in the room?”

“Uh…” The elf tapped her chin.  “A few other servants…that servant that arrived with that Orlesian noble this morning was loitering around not doing anything.  The cook yelled for him to leave if he was just going to take up space.”

The spymaster and the Herald met eyes.  Evie spoke first.  “The marquis was in the room when I requested my dinner from Josephine.”

Josephine perked up.  “The marquis left an hour ago with Leliana and Cullen’s permission.”

 _Damn it_!  Cullen screamed in his head.  He allowed a potential assassin leave the valley.  Once again, he failed to protect the Herald.

“He left alone.”  Leliana added.  “He never requested a servant to leave with him.”

“I will have my men locate the servant immediately-“ Cullen ordered, turning away from the door.

“Belay that!”

Cullen twirled back around, seeing the Herald jump to her feet.  She swayed a little until she grasped Ser Hugh’s hand behind her.  She sneered at the man, her eyes burning into his soul.  “Leliana’s people will handle the servant.  There are two other assassins roaming this village!  We are collecting the bastards like crabs in the _Blooming Rose_!”

Leliana followed Evie’s bright green eyes, studying the stunned man by the door.  Cullen could not figure out exactly where this animosity originated, but the Herald did not regard him in the same way as she did yesterday.  He could see the hatred and fear in her eyes.  If looks could set people ablaze, he would be burnt to a crisp.

“U-understood, Herald.” Cullen stammered, losing some of his commander persona as she continued to grit her teeth.

“Josephine,” Evie hissed, never breaking her bright green eyes from him.  “Gather Cassandra.  Let’s all meet in the War Room in ten minutes.  I want to end this _now!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Evie reviewed the plot in her mind, as she locked arms with the Chantry robed individual on her left.  The two people were taking an evening stroll around the frozen lake outside of Haven’s main gate.  Josephine made sure the Chantry sisters and servants heard the Herald and her party were leaving Val Royeaux tomorrow morning at dawn to oversee some new business in the capital.  Cullen advised his troops that the valley restriction would end that night to make sure the Imperial Highway was safe.  Leliana ordered her scouts to accompany the troops and small group of Chantry clerics returning to the Grand Cathedral.  All these actions were always in place, just made more public to Haven’s inhabitants.  If the assassins wished to strike Mother Giselle and her before they left, the moment would be now.

“I feel ridiculous…” A Nevarran accent hissed from under the Chantry habit.  The robes caught on her boots as she stepped through the thick snow.

“Oh, come Mother Pentaghast,” Evie snickered as she leaned against the seeker.  “You might like the whole garb.  Put down your sword and shield and become a pacifist.”

“I would rather marry Varric.” The woman hissed as they walked.

Evie’s eyebrow perked, watching as the woman adjusted her hidden sword on her hip.  “Does the groom know your intentions?”

“Shut it, Trevelyan.”

The real Mother Giselle had been moved to the Chantry cellar.  The advisors made sure that everyone saw the mother enter the Chantry and ‘the Mother’ leaving the building with Evie.  Cassandra was chosen to be to the decoy and the most unlikely person to wear a Chantry robe.  The seeker kept her head down as they walked out of Haven, disguising it behind Evie’s long wavy curly hair.

The two women continued over the ridge, past the docks and towards the druffalo herd.  The canyon area was naturally walled and out of sight of Haven.  It was the prime opportunity for the assassin because it limited ‘the Mother’ and Evie’s escape.  When Cullen had brought up the concern, the mage looked to Leliana, knowing the ridgeline would be perfect for her archers and scouts.  Cullen and a few trusted officers would cut off the assassins’ exit once in the canyon.

Leliana praised Evie for the plan, only tweaking specifics to avoid confusion and their possible deaths.  The spymaster agreed that there were three assassins.  One, the Chantry sister would be captured when the small group of clerics left the area.  The Nightingale already had an agent dressed as a Chantry sister living among the clerics camp since yesterday.  Although direct evidence was still elusive, Leliana explained that the knife found at the crime scene was actually owned by a mage who planned to frame a templar for a self-inflicted attack.  The man had already been dealt with.  Evie prayed he had been kicked out of Haven or was in prison, but the spymaster did not hide she would kill anyone who threatened the Inquisition’s work.

Cullen voiced that the Herald as bait was a terrible idea.  Evie reflected how much she just wanted to scream, asking if he has a better idea.  He kept shifting his position with her, discounting her ideas, and made her feel like public enemy number one.  Ser Hugh tried to explain his behavior, but it made no sense.  He seemed genuinely concerned for her in the apothecary cabin, but she was not going to fall for his templar deception anymore.  He had drawn her into a false sense of security before, but she was wiser now.  He was protecting her for the mark, not for her.  He kept his _charge_ under wraps until she sealed the Breach, questioning her about blood mage, poisons, and possession.  He destroyed any hope for a civil relationship when he told her not to use her magic.

Evie sniffled, rubbing her nose with her right hand.  The mage was getting sick.  She would be going in front of the Chantry hierarchy with a damn cold because of that bastard.  She would have preferred being poisoned because she hated getting contagions and feeling miserable.  Any poultices she could use would cloud her judgement, and she needed all her wits.  There she was, unarmed, in the middle of a snowy canyon about to face potentially multiple assassins. 

Evie chose to remain unarmed to make it look like she was an easy target.  Leliana had her staff.  She had to rely on her mana and the mark, it specifically because she could draw from the Fade faster than waiting for her spells to recharge.  Both Cassandra and Cullen hated _that_ , immediately commenting on her emotional instability and lack of control over the foreign magic.  From what she could tell, Cassandra did not know about last night.  The mage figured Cullen would have gone and hollered to the seeker as soon as they arrived back in Haven.

The Herald noted some movement from the tree line to her right, recognizing the black and brown bear mantle between the pine branches.  Yet, the commander kept her fall into the lake and her panic afterwards to himself.  He probably did not want to explain why he was out at the middle of the night with her, or he was waiting for the most inopportune moment to tell the advisors. 

The man made no sense.

Evie’s mind cleared as she heard the druffalo males’ snort and moo in front of she and her companion.  The animals were getting agitated.  Someone had entered their territory.  The mage counted on the animals to be a wild card.  She waved her marked hand, preparing for the attack from the hill before them.

_Twang!_

Evie flicked up a barrier over she and Cassandra, watching the arrow flick right off her magic barricade.  With her other hand, she flung an explosive immolate spell into the herd behind the hill.  Her ball of fire was on target, hitting the main male, causing him to freak.  It wheezed, bucking forward into the hill.

Cassandra and Evie both winced as they heard the assassin’s body crash against the hill.  He hollered in pain, rolling over the hill in his free army armor.  Before Evie could respond to the assassin, an ice spike hurdled towards her back.

“Herald!”  Cassandra called, pulling her shield from beneath the robes, and guarded Evie from the magic.  As it crashed against the shield, the seeker responded with a spell purge in its direction, forcing the mage assassin’s barrier to fail and show his position.  Cullen’s men flanked the mage, forcing the man to fade step away.

Leliana jumped down from the side of a ridge, tossing Evie her staff.  She whistled to her scouts along the line, pointing at the druffalo to eliminate the herd before it threatened the group.  The spymaster stood over the archer assassin, her own bow drawn.  “I dare you to move.”

Evie turned her attention to the mage slipping away in stealth, throwing ice walls at the Inquisition forces.  She threw up another barrier at the men most vulnerable, nearly falling backwards from casting the spell too quickly.  The mage closed her eyes, focusing on the music in her mind.  The violin sang to life over the drums and horns, allowing Evie to draw mana from the mark.  It sparked to life in a controlled manner as she took off running towards the Fade-stepping mage.

The inferno mage skipped off a nearby boulder, spinning in the air as she grew a fireball in her hands.  She tossed it forward, landing at her target about two feet in front of the assassin.  He was forced to stop and slid away from the explosion as Evie rolled off the snow and continued running towards the adversary.

 

* * *

 

Cullen could sense from position that the assassin mage was gathering his magic, focusing his energy at the headstrong Herald running right for him.  “Maker-” Cullen cussed, drawing from his low lyrium supply for a cleansing spell.  He rushed towards a boulder perpendicular to the colliding mages, releasing a cleansing spell right as the assassin casted a blizzard.  Cullen could tell it was not strong enough to counter the magic.  His body had not rebounded from the night before.

“Shit!” Evie dung her heels into the snow, sliding across the snow, most likely sensing the cleansing.  She shifted her weight towards him and ran for the boulder.

Cassandra slid from Cullen’s right, pulsing a dispelling spell at part of the blizzard was not negated by his templar ability.  Still, both warriors felt the blizzard thundering towards them as Evie jumped over the rock, landing between them.  In sequence, the seeker and commander covered their heads with their shields as a wave of cold and frost washed over their location.  Evie ducked her head between her knees, her bare hands covered in an icy layer as the spell slowly dissipated.

Evie shook her head as snow and ice danced off her braids.  “The bastard is strong!”  She hissed, pulling energy from an unknown source.  Cullen looked down as Evie’s hand waved like she was pulling spider skin from the mark.  She nodded at his shield, smirking.  He nodded back, arching his shield in front of him.  The woman jumped over the rock, her boot catching his shield as she lunged herself off the metal.  The mage spun in the air, her legs spread arched as she dusted the air with a cloud of embers and smoke.

Snow and embers caught the assassin by surprise as Evie swung her staff at the man’s head.  He slid backward, bringing his own staff forward to block her blow.  The two arcane users danced around it each other, their conflicting magic spinning around their bodies.  The bobbled, weaved, and threw ice and fire.  Their staves clacked together like tree branches in a tornado.  Each time one of their blades almost reached their opponents face, the other would fade step out of range.

Cullen’s amber eyes evaluated the fight, watching as the two mages rumbled towards the lake in front of Haven.  “ _Shit!”_   The commander took off running towards the dueling elemental mages as the nearly reached the lakeshore.  Cassandra followed behind with the remaining Inquisition forces.

 

* * *

 

Evie never broke eye contact with the assassin, keeping her focus on dodging, weaving, and the violin in her mind.  When her boot slipped a little, she realized the two people reached the lake.  The Herald grimaced, not wishing to repeat the night before.  She drew the largest amount of energy she could from the mark and her willpower, pirouetting away from her adversary, and flinging her marked hand across her body.  A wall of fire exploded around her, melting the ice on the lakeshore.  The opposing mage froze the water as it splashed up from the lake, but could not contain the blaze as ignited in front of him.  Evie dug her staff blade into the solid ice, sliding her body around the new wall of ice.  Evie saw the man on his back as she kicked her staff free and went to drive the blade into his neck, stopping near inches from his Adam’s apple.

Evie panted and wheezed, keeping the staff still.  His black hood had fallen during their duel, showing his pointed ears and his ice blue vallaslins.  He was Dalish.  “Who are you!?” Evie hollered.

“Someone sent to clean up a mess.” The elf hissed back.  His blue eyes burned up at her.   His white hair batted against his face as the wind picked up.  “That fool cleric did even know she was stabbing at Chantry mother!”

“So, I was the intended target after all!”  Evie confirmed back, keeping herself from digging her staff into his neck.

“You have always been the target, you _Yalddaughter_.”

Evie lurched back, not being able to contain her pain-filled face.  The elf gritted his teeth together, sneering up at the panicking Herald.  “ _She_ sends her regards…”  The mage on the ice started to convulse as his mouth foamed and his eyes rolled back into his head.

The Herald threw her staff away, grabbing the sides of her head.  “Fuck!”

 

* * *

 

Cullen and Cassandra reached the lakeshore, watching Evie pace back and forth across the ice pulling her braids and hair.  The commander could feel her remaining magic and mana pulled close to her body.  Something must have upset her because her face was purple and tears rolled down her cheeks.  The mark sparked and arced, but it seemed stable.  It only glowed when Evie kicked and hollered in all directions.  Whatever Evie had been doing during the fight, it had drained the foreign magic substantially.

Cassandra walked towards the dead elf mage on the ice, noting the foam pouring from his lips as his body stiffened.  The seeker kicked his staff away, just in case.  The commander felt a silence spell flash from her direction.

Cullen remained focus on the Herald, walking slowly towards her as she rubbed her temples repeatedly.  He could not make out her words, as tears flowed like water down her cheeks.  He reached into his coat pockets.  The action started the mage as she attempted to prepare another spell, but nothing came to her hands.  Cullen held up his free hand in front of him and pulled out a pair of bear suede gloves.

Evie shook as she eyed the elbow-length gloves in his hand.  He expected her to take them from his grasp, but instead rushed forward and buried her face into his mantle.  Cullen stood still as the woman howled into his shoulder with sobs and cries.  He tucked his left arm over her back, holding her left shoulder with his gloved hand with her gloves still in his right.  The Herald gripped his coat like her life depended on it, on him.  He wanted to tell her she was safe, but somehow he knew that was not true. 

Cullen instead glowered over his shoulder at any person who neared the woman.  Cassandra froze in her position the first time she faced the ex-templar and the mage against his chest.  His amber eyes burning the message, ‘stay away.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A “yaldson” or “yalddaughter” is a fifteen-century insult, meaning “son/daughter of a prostitute.”


	11. A Previous Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Feed the Machine" by Nickback
> 
> All I have to say is poor Evie. :(

“Enter.”

The door to Cullen’s office slowly opened as a man dressed in new templar armor held the doorknob.  He kept his head down as he entered the room.  In a fluid motion, he closed the wooden door, dampening the barracks’ noise outside the office.

Cullen had yet to look up from his requisition, writing some final thoughts and notes for the quartermaster.  Breeze from the Waking Sea cooled his sweating neck.  His knight-captain armor was like an oven in the summer heat.  Thankfully, the sun’s rays had shifted away from the windows behind him that afternoon.

No one spoke for several moments as Cullen continued to write, his amber eyes shifting across the page.  Every so often, he shook his head, attempting to move his long blond curls from his view.  Finally, he placed the quill down, looking at the young man who had been in resting formation with his feet spread and his hands behind his back.  Cullen studied his face, stolid and without emotion.

“Announce yourself.”

“Templar Knight Esme Monroe.”

“We expected you a month ago, knight.”  Cullen huffed, leaning back in his desk chair.  “I did not know it took over two months to travel from the White Spire.”

The templar’s face never wavered.  “The ship I was supposed to take across the Waking Sea was plundered by the Felicisima Armada before it arrived at port.  I took a ship out of Amaranthine to reach Kirkwall.”

Cullen grimaced, crossing his arms over his templar breastplate.  “You should have sent word.”

Cullen continued to stare at the new templar before him, but could not see his face, only the lack of emotion.  The more he tried to study the man, the more he became obscure.  The knight-captain should see his hair, but nothing seemed clear.  Cullen’s eyes blurred as he felt himself move away from the man and out of the office.

 

* * *

 

Cullen’s amber eyes blinked open as he felt a flat pillow under his head and a hard cot under his body.  He rolled on his side, pinching his nose.  His tunic was soak with sweat, while most of the wool blankets pooled on the canvas tent floor.  His feet were ice cold in the chilly mountain air.  His trousers were bunched up around his knees from stirring in his sleep.

Cullen had never had that dream before.

The blond man knew it was not a dream, but a memory from a previous life.

The commander brought his feet to the floor, sitting up on his cot.  He ran his fingers through his hair, keeping his hand on his neck as he tried to place the event, but nothing made sense.  He never had problems before the Inquisition with names and faces.  First, it was that recurring messenger running around Haven and now a faceless templar haunted his dream with the name, Esme.  Lyrium was known to cause memory loss in long-term users.  He hoped this was just another withdraw symptom rising to plague his life and not permanent damage.

Cullen sighed, dropping his hand back in his lap.  Esme, the name the Herald had used to cover up her identity a week ago.  Ever since then, he rattled his brain trying to figure out why it sounded so familiar.  It seemed his subconscious was trying to remind him.  He winced as that locked and barred door in the dark corner of his mind flashed behind his eyelids.  If the memory was behind the door, it was not important enough to open and investigate.

Yet, Evie was important.

Cullen’s templar resolve waned since that day on the lake against the assassins.  Evie calmed down after some time.  By then, Cassandra directed his troops back to the village.  Leliana appeared with a few scouts, dragging the archer assassin behind her.  From the assassin’s movements, it looked like he also had a few bruised ribs and a concussion.  The spymaster threw the man on the ground beside the dead mage assassin, hands tied behind his back.  She studied the dead mage, then Cullen as he held Evie, her sobs lessening as she slowly wore herself out.  The commander glanced at the archer, knowing his face immediately.

“You argued with the Herald the night Mother Giselle was stabbed.”  Cullen jeered, recognizing his wretched face from the campfire.

Evie back away from the commander, first looking away from the group to clean her nose and eyes, then at the prisoner.  Her eyes were glimmering as a nerve jumped in her cheek.  “Were you with the Chantry sister?  The mage?”

“I was just trying to get rid of a murderer!”  The prisoner hollered at the woman.  Cullen stepped in between the man tied up on the ice and the Herald.

“Answer the question.”  Leliana ordered, kicking snow at the man.

“I do not know who that knife-ear is.” The prisoner hollered, scanning each advisor’s face.  “The bitch fooled my friends and me.  I just wanted her to pay for all the people she killed on the mountain!”

Evie side stepped around Cullen, pulling her gloves from Cullen’s right hand.  She walked right up to the prisoner, slapping the man so hard with her gloves he fell unconscious.  The Herald stepped over both bodies, heading towards Haven.  After a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder.  Her voice rough and focused.  “The party leaves for Val Royeaux in the morning.  We’ll take the southern passage, then head north through the Dales.  It will take an additional day, but I want to avoid any more of these sonofabitches.”

“Understood.” Cassandra concurred, watching the Herald put on her suede gloves.  She never turned back to the group as she ventured towards the village.

The advisors met after the battle without the Herald, who was asleep in her quarters in the cellar.  Cassandra’s concerns about the mark had waned after watching Evie fight and draw mana from the foreign magic to continue casting.  Cullen agreed, neglecting to tell the seeker about her balancing process the night before.  The commander had full intention in telling the advisors what had happened, but he kept his mouth shut every time he an opportunity to do so.

A part of Cullen reminded himself he was no longer a templar.  He left that life in Kirkwall over three months ago.  It was a life he wanted no part of, so why did he keep himself to that duty.  His abilities were waning, as evident by his inability to summon another silence if needed or to fully cleanse the assassin mage’s blizzard.  Both abilities required a great deal of lyrium, a poison he stopped taking once he boarded the ship for Ferelden.  It was admirable to want to protect Haven and Evie, but he did not have to be that stolid and cold knight anymore.  Furthermore, Evie was doing all she could to control the alien mark. 

It was not until the Herald left that next morning Cullen processed all her crying and weak moments.  She was a former noble, who spent most of her life in a Circle, thrusted into a semi-leadership position with a strange magic and unwanted title.  People accused her of murdering the Divine and her Conclave, trying to kill her at every turn.  Instead of offering comfort and assistance, the advisors demanded her to control the magic in fear of blowing up the Orlesian capital.  The one person she had felt semi-comfortable with turned into the very thing she had been taught to fear in the Circle.

“Never again…” Cullen vowed out loud, as he held his hands together.  He knew she might never forgive him.  She was not a trusting person, but yet, he wanted to at least explain his behavior.

However, it would have to wait until they met in the Hinterlands in a few days.

The former templar reached for a short missive he received before he went to bed.  He reread the message a few times:

            _Advisors:  Val Royeaux was a circus.  A templar cold-clocked a revere mother.  Lord Seeker Lucius Corin declared the templars were leaving the Chantry and would not give us the time of day.  Grand Enchanter Fiona wishes to meet in Redcliffe about a possible alliance.  We will travel to the Hinterlands tomorrow morning following a few stops with potential allies.  Nightingale, figure out where Lucius is taking the templars.  Ambassador, check the Chantry’s status now that their unified voice is now unconscious.  Commander, oversee the final construction of watchtowers and prepare to escort mounts back to Haven.  Master Dennet better stop bitching or he will be shitting fire for a week. –Evie_

“No one can complain that she is dull.” Cullen smirked, shaking his head. 

He missed her smile.  Her twinkling bright green eyes every time she successfully makes him laugh.  The faint freckles across her nose and cheekbones as she studied the false templar knife.  The smell of oranges and cloves on his coat after she wore it that night at the lake and after she sobbed.  Her warmth and clinging hands around his arm as she sat on his lap.

“Maker’s breath…” he groaned, rubbing his face.  His mind could not find a balance between his personal thoughts and his duties.  They were in a constant tug of war in his chest, and he could not make one side let go.  “Focus, you bastard.”  The first thought through the emotional war was the dream and the faceless templar in his office.  Cullen pushed himself off the cot, walking towards his desk.  There was one thing he could do.

The commander pulled out of a clean sheet of parchment, dipping his quill in the ink well.  The words flowed from the tip easily.  He addressed the letter to Knight-Commander Agatha of Kirkwall.  Ser Agatha had become a knight-captain while he was knight-commander, demonstrating after the Chantry explosion that she was moderate templar who respected mages.  The Champion spoke highly of her, and she served under Ser Thrask before he was killed.  Cullen knew she would work well with City Guard Captain Aveline, especially since Hugh followed him to the Inquisition.  The commander left most of his templar documents in Kirkwall, sans a few list of names and address of associates throughout Thedas.  Agatha would have access to all his personnel files and could maybe discover Esme and his station.

“Or he could be a figment of my imagination.” Cullen muttered, pinching his nose.  He pushed that possibility from his mind, finishing his letter, folding it, and writing _urgent_ across the front.

The sooner that he had an answer, the sooner he hoped to regain his sanity.

 

* * *

 

_Val Royeaux_

 

Varric adjusted his scout coat over his embroidered red tunic before strapping Bianca back on his back.  Dust danced off its collar from all the backroads they travelled to reach Val Royeaux that morning.  They were leaving again in the morning, meaning their excursion had to be quick and without incident.

The dwarf glanced to his right, noting Evie had changed into her medium armor for their night out.  For the open meeting with the clerics, she had the whole group wear their Inquisition armors to present a unified organization in front of their largest critics.  Solas looked strange, although it was probably more color than he has ever worn.  Cassandra argued with the Herald for an hour over her armor, feeling the seeker armor would be fine.  Evie won that argument.  Good thing the Herald had, particularly after what the lord seeker did.

“And where are you two going?”

Varric sighed as Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  The mage glanced over her shoulder before putting up her hood.  “Out.  This place has only red wine, and after getting poisoned _again_ , it is the last liquor I want at the moment.”

The party was staying at Ambassador Montilyet’s family townhouse within the city.  Ruffles lived there when she was the ambassador for Antiva in Orlais.  Now, her younger sister, Yvette, stayed there while she studied art, but she was out of town that week with some friends.  The first thing Evie did when they arrived was searched the cabinets for booze after such a crappy day, but only found a few bottles of red wine.  Evie tossed them out the window and set the liquid ablaze.

Varric liked Monkey.

The seeker continued down the front steps in her tunic and pants, her arms crossed over her chest.  “Herald, you are currently wanted dead here.  Has Haven not taught you anything?”

The only word Varric could use to describe the stare Evie gave the warrior was noxious.  “Thus why I am dressed like this.”

“Besides, Seeker,” Varric cooed, showing Bianca as he attached the crossbow to his back.  “I will be with her.”

“That is what I am afraid of.” The Nevarran muttered as her lip twitched.

Evie opened her jacket, exposing her belt and vest for the warrior.  “Cassandra, I am covered head to toe in daggers.  I was taught to be a rogue before my arcane manifestation.  I will avoid using my magic so I am not a flaming beacon for the whole city.”  She waved her right hand.  “The mark is covered by several layers of wraps and gloves.  If I tried to bend my fingers right now, I will cut off circulation.  We will be back within two bells.”

“At least tell me where you are going.”  Cassandra quizzed, eying both people closely.

“The alienage.” Varric replied as Evie opened the backdoor to the ally.  “So you can tell the guards where to find our bodies in the morning.”

The seeker grunted, throwing her hands in the air.  “You have one bell, or Maker help me…!”

 

* * *

 

The pair found the pub pretty quickly.  All they had to do was follow the stench of vomit and bad life choices down a few back alleys in the elven alienage.  Varric thought the Herald would struggle in the slums, but she felt more comfortable here than in the Summer Bazaar.  Once they found the place by the docks, Evie hinted she would follow his lead.

Varric stepped into the pub, feeling a wave of nostalgia fall over him as he scanned the place.  He partly wished to see Hawke in some corner having a drinking contest with one of Isabela’s sailors or Fenris in a bar fight with a drunk who called him a “knife-ear.”

“Ah, home…” Varric sighed, tilting his head to the side.  He glanced up at the human to his left, noticing she kept her hood over her face and head.

“You see him?”  The woman asked, avoiding looking up and showing her bright green eyes.

Varric stepped forward, trying to see over the crowds of people.  He perused the corners and walls for someone who fit in _too_ well in the establishment of drunk sailors, ugly prostitutes, and starved elves.  His eye caught a familiar beard towards the left back part of the pub.  “Passed the bar with the rolled Antivan cigarillo.”

The woman nodded, walking forward.  Varric kept his calm as they weaved between people and bar wenches until they were just a few steps in front of a long rectangular table about seven feet from the main bar.  Varric remained by the bar, allowing Evie to approach the table alone.  He ordered drinks for he and his friend, while keeping his senses focused on everyone around them.

There was at least six empty mugs and shot glasses across the table surrounding a long faced man with a balding head and white, curled beard and moustache.   The patron lit his cigarillo with a nearby candle illumining the table and then drew heavy draws from the rolled herb.  He puffed smoke from his lips before repeating the process.

Evie spoke first, her hood hiding her eyes.  “Genitivi sends his regards.”

“How this time?” The patron cooed, never looking at the woman.

“With a bag of flaming darkspawn shit all the way from the Anderfells.”

Varric dropped a few coopers on the bar, collecting the two pints of beer the barista handed him.  The dwarf smirked as the patron nodded in approval.  Varric approached the table with the drinks as the balding man waved his right hand towards the empty bench across from him.  The dwarf set the first pint in front of Evie once she sat down, circled around her to sit on her right side.

“So, we finally meet, my Phoenix.”  The patron sang, his voice sounded like what silk felt like.

“We do, Philliam.” Evie grinned, lifting her head enough for the older man to see her bright green eyes.  The hood disguised her hair and any other features that could expose her identity.  She beamed happily.  “Although, I wish it had not taken twenty-eight years.”

“Eh.” Philliam shrugged.  “It is better than never.”

“Which is what Father counted on.”  Evie murmured, taking a sip of her beer.  She immediately winced as the liquid touched her tongue.

“Should have warned you, Monkey.” Varric giggled as Philliam shook his head.  “You might be drinking the best beer ever produced or urine.”

“Just like the Hangman, right dwarf?”  Philliam commented, lighting his cigarillo again with the candle.

Varric grinned ear-to-ear.  “You know how to win me over, old man.”

Philliam took a draw from his rolled herb, allowing the smoke to linger in his mouth, before exhaling.  “This is not a social call, I presume?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Evie sighed, taking a larger gulp of beer and immediately regretting it.  “You receive any instructions?”

Philliam nodded once.  “Your father told me to quote, ‘keep things civil’ until we have more information.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “Wait until he hears that his main enterprise is null and void after today.”

“He anticipated it.” Philliam commented.  “He has already shifted his trading to more _stable_ goods since the rebellion began.  Any remaining templars loyal to the charges and principal duty are in Hasmal, one of the last Circles to remain neutral.  Most of the Free Marches’ templars and mages are there, including the family’s knights.  Knight-Commander Brycen is in charge and worth contacting.  It is not enough manpower to close the Breach, but will be receptive to an alliance.  As for the daft fools led by the lork seeker, it is a ‘wait and see’ situation.  The rogue templars do not have the Chantry holding their lyrium chains.  The Carta is going to roll in sovereigns.”

“We already ran into an operation in the Hinterlands.”  Varric chimed in.  “We return to the region to clean up a mercenary company suspected of protecting the guild’s underground trade in the Deep Roads.”

“Just make sure your guild does not find out, dwarf.” Philliam noted, nodding towards Varric.  “I like you too much to see your ass strung up by your balls.”

The table went silent for a few seconds.  Varric could tell the Herald had a question, but struggled.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “What is _she_ doing?” Evie accented her words carefully.

“You tell me.” Philliam replied, enigmatically.

“Two assassins in Haven.” Evie grumbled, rubbing her temples with her gloved hands.  Varric found it strange she sniffed the suede for a brief moment before clasping her pint mug again.  “One accidently stabbed a revered mother, although that itself allied with another assassination request, while the other foamed at the mouth once I penned him under my staff blade.”

“They were most likely warnings.”  Philliam concluded, slowly opening and closing his blood red eyes.  The herbs’ effects were showing through his behavior.  Most people would assume the old man was completely useless intoxicated and drugged beyond the Veil.  Varric knew the bard trained extensively while drugged, so he was deadly in any condition.  “Your father told her to be civil, just like he told me to make sure everything stayed civil.  She isn’t serious and won’t kill you _quite_ yet.”

Varric could tell by the tone of the conversation not to ask questions.  This was family matter.  He wanted the option to deny any information, if he was interrogated or threatened.  The dwarf learned a long time ago when working with Bann Trevelyan to never get involved in the house affairs.

“Nothing has changed then.” Evie’s words sounded hollow and worn, much like her face since Varric met her a month ago.

“You know better than to think people change, my Phoenix.”  Philliam advised, resting his elbow on the table with half burnt cigarillo, dusting embers into an empty shot glass.  “The only difference is that you have been out of the furnace for twenty years, behind tall stone walls.  She has been in the thick of it and learning all she can.  She lives _here_ with masked idiots who enjoy killing and destroying people’s lives.”

“What do you know of the DuRellions?”  Evie inquired.  “The second assassin was a mage who arrived in Haven with the marquis.”

Philliam bobbled his head back and forth.  “A family who cannot decide if they want to be buffoons or barbarians.  They straddle the Frostback like a whore sitting on a virgin man’s face.”

“Are they loyal to _her_?”

Philliam shook his head no.  “At most, they are trying to win some points without upsetting your father.  He is not getting any younger, and she has been taking more responsibilities over the last few years.”

“Most likely in anticipation for her husband to be become the leader of the Council of Heralds.”  Evie’s voice turned stern and rough.  “The Iron Bitch sent a messenger, asking me to go to their villa after the fiasco this morning.  She wants a collaboration.”

“I would take it.” Philliam advised, flicking his hand in the air to as passing wench.  The older woman nodded, turning towards the bar.  “Keep your enemies closer.  You have a good group around you.  One of the best bards ever produced is your spymaster.  The toughest seeker and dragon slayer accompanying you on your exploits.  A former templar who kept a city from falling to pieces.  Each one of them connected to you like a carefully spun spider web.  Even your ambassador can be deadly when she is not using her words to make nobles squirm in their comfy seats.  Madam de Fer is probably there because she is a dying horse in a race for her life.  The Circles have fallen, thus her status.  Rumors have it that Celene has chosen an occultist to advise her.  Her duke is taking his last breaths in the countryside.  If the Rusty Old Hag does not win the race, she is going to be taken out back and shot.”

“Any other advice?”  Evie asked, hoping the man had any positive news.

“Yes,” Philliam cooed as the wench brought him a shot glass filled with a clear liquid that smelled like a rotten fish.  The man smacked her bottom as she walked away, getting the wench to giggle happily.  “Follow through with Red Jenny.  If they overlooked your noble background, they will be a valuable source of information and manpower, just do not expect a long recruiting line.  One of those insane Jennies is worth a hundred of whatever saps Varric has under his command.”

Varric flicked off the old man as he finished his beer.

“Your father is sending you a present to even your odds.” Philliam added, swallowing the shot like it was water.  His face never shifted as he leaned backed against the rear wall.  “The Qunari are interested in the hole, ordering one of their false Tal-Vashoth bodyguards to join the Inquisition.  Good group of mercs.  I ran into a few about three years ago.  Thank goodness we were on the same side.  A family ships ferried them to the Storm Coast for free when he wanted to go and intercept some Tevinters.  Your father said their Qunari leader will be an excellent bodyguard for you.  Train you to be a fighter.  You were barely introduced to tactics before you were sealed up in that stupid tower.”

Evie rolled her eyes, leaning forward and rubbing the back her neck under the hood.  “This nightmare is just getting better…” 

The mage kept her head down as she processed the information.  Varric scanned the room to guard her.  The dwarf knew they were safe if Philliam selected that location, but a part of him did not want to feel the seeker’s wrath if something happen.

Evie mumbled against the table.  “Varric, can you wait by the front door for me?  We have to head back in a few minutes, but…I need to-“

“-No worries, Monkey.” Varric sang, patting her back.  I will be right outside the entrance, reviewing the alley so we can make our great escape back to the Summer Bazaar.”

“Thank you.”

Phillian nodded his chin towards the rogue.  “Dwarf, I am relying on you to keep my Phoenix safe.”

Varric shook the old bard’s hand before turning away from the table.  “We are all good.  Keep the weeds to a minimum though.  You look like you should be surrounded with Dalish keepers seeing sounds.”

“It’s for my glaucoma, you half slack pile of shit.” Philliam hissed, relighting his cigarillo.  “Besides, do not speak badly about my dealers.  One of them used to hang out with you before Kirkwall exploded.”

“Grand-Uncle, _please_.” Evie gripping her hooded head tightly.

Varric took the Herald’s tone as a sign for him to stop bantering and leave.

 

* * *

 

At least a dozen patrons entered and exited the pub by the time Evie emerged, rubbing away a few tears from her bright green eyes.  She attempted to hide the shimmer on her cheekbones from the burning scones above the pub door.  Varric almost wanted to point down the alley at a man getting a blowjob to make her laugh, but he refrained once he smelled the rotten fish liquor on her breath.

The rogue dwarf walked ahead of her, searching the empty Orlesian streets for any threats, while Evie slung behind with her head down.  Varric knew the Herald received some bad news that night.  Nonetheless, whatever happened after he exited the pub, it left her lifeless like a ghost wishing to find peace across the Veil.  He noticed she finished _Tale of the Champion_ while they travelled to Val Royeaux.  Her face became ashen, probably as things fell apart in Kirkwall.  She read some pages a few times, collecting the information and burning it to memory as if she was being tested.  Most people read his account for entertainment.  Evie read it for an explanation, a source to find some understanding and solace.  She had yet asked him any questions, but from her body language once she completed the book, Evie might not after all.

The Herald was a lifeless body.

Something in that book was a raw sore for her, and it was not just the obvious ‘mage blowing up the Chantry.’  Anytime someone mentioned his home, she shuddered or recoiled, never succeeding in hiding her pain.  Evie should never play _Wicked Grace_.

About a few alleys away from the townhouse, Evie stopped.  Varric eyed the woman in shadow as she swayed on her feet.  Suddenly, she hollered and kicked a rotting box filled with trash.  She threw a few glass bottles down the alley as she grunted and groaned.  A random cat scowled and hissed somewhere.  The woman relaxed after a few moments, looking up at the sky.  She looked like she was begging her Maker to absorb her.

“Let’s go home, Varric.” Evie whimpered, starting to walk again.  She stumbled past him, her gloved hands formed fist.  A few embers circled around her head.  “I do not want to deal with Cassandra right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ser Agatha is the templar from Dragon Age II's Act 3 Quest "The Last Holdouts." She does not have extreme views like Ser Mettin and believes templars should only hunt apostates.
> 
> Taken from the War Table Mission, “Answer a Request from Hasmal.”


	12. Packages of Manure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Bad Blood" by Taylor Swift
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Cullen heard the horse hooves first, looking left from his tent entrance.  He was giving Captain Rylen some final orders before he mounted his plow horse for the Hinterlands.  His officer followed his gaze as the two men witness a group of horses all carrying riders towards Haven.  Most horses were Ferelden Forders, but two stuck out over the dark chestnut mounts:  light grey Orlesian Coursers with their mane and tail braided in some ridiculous fashion.  The first was carrying multiple trucks and ornate bags.  On the other, the rider looked like a vampiric opera singer with a horned headdress, a silver mask, and a tall striped collar.  The Orlesian Courser trotted faster to beat the lead Ferelden Forder to the stables.  The leader was not giving her an inch, almost kicking the horse into a run to keep the advantage.

“Were we expecting the Herald, sir?”  Captain Rylen asked, keeping his attention to the group of six people.  An elf woman shared the leader’s saddle, sliding off the mount into a mud puddle.  She splashed mud all over the opera singer’s black leather riding boots.  The elf giggled, skipping away like she had just gotten some candy.

“No,” Cullen replied, power walking towards the stables to investigate.  “Send a messenger for Sister Leliana and Lady Montilyet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cullen was about three feet from the group when he called out to the group’s leader.  “Lady Herald, we were not expecting you.”

Evie pivoted on her left foot, throwing Cullen a look that would set a thousand ships ablaze.  Her cheek twitched as her eyes turned to slits.  “We are only here for the night, then leaving again.”  Her bright green eyes darted to the opera singer sauntering towards the commander.  Her caped robes reminded the man of the Waking Sea the day before a hurricane thundered up the coast, calm but extremely dangerous.  “We had to deliver some…” Her cheek twitched again as the opera singer approached the commander.  “…packages.”

“I presume you are Knight-Commander Rutherford?” The approaching woman sang, her voice sickly sweet as she accented his former title.  Her accent was not Orlesian, although her riding outfit suggested otherwise.

Cullen glanced at Evie would gagged behind the opera singer and at him, turning away.  She pulled a few bottles of liquor from her saddle bag, tucking one under each arm.  She took a quick swig on the last bottle.  It seemed already half empty as it slushed a few times in her grasp.  “That is no longer my title, miss…?”

“Madam Vivienne de Fer, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Imperial Court Enchanter to Empress Celene of Orlais.”  She pulled off her riding glove and presented her hand to Cullen.  The man did his best to hide his apprehension, quickly kissing the woman’s hand before stepping a few paces away from the mage. 

His amber eyes flicked to Evie would rolled her own eyes and took another swig from the bottle.  She marched towards Haven’s gates.  Cassandra followed behind, groaning as she ignored the whole situation.  “Commander, you two can play templar and mage later.  Chantry, _now!_ ”

Cullen nodded at the first enchanter, turning to follow the Herald.  His right ear caught the imperial enchanter cooing in sarcastic disgust, “she is _so_ colorful…”

The former templar quickened his pace to follow the Herald into Haven, watching as the elf who had ridden with Evie skipped behind them both.  “Nice arse!”  Cullen flinched, stopping in mid step to confront the elf.  She just shrugged, skipping away giggling towards the tavern.

Who in Maker’s name has the Herald brought to the Inquisition?!

Cullen jogged to catch up with the ablazed woman and the seeker.  As they approached the Chantry, the Herald was about ten feet in front of him.  Rylen’s messenger, the same damn man he could never remember his name, was attempting to get Josephine’s attention as she spoke with a tan-skinned man dressed in Free March armor.  Evie’s inferno pace shifted towards the ambassador and the unknown warrior.  She pointed at the man, her index finger almost bumping his nose.

“Storm Coast mercs with a Qunari leader?”

The man blinked at the Herald several times, his mouth gapping like a fish.  “Y-yes, ma’am.  How-”

Evie’s finger almost poked Josephine’s eye out.  “Hire them.  I will pick them up once I am done in Redcliffe.  Chantry, _now!_ ”

Josephine held her hand to her chest as the Herald turned away and kicked the Chantry door open.  Her dark Antivan eyes met Cassandra’s face, then Cullen’s.  Both people shrugged as Josephine struggled to grasp what was going on.

“It’s good you’ve returned.  My agents sent word ahead.” Leliana called as she walked up the Chantry’s nave.  Cullen and Josephine were barely inside the building, glancing at each other with the same thought in mind:  why were they not told?

Evie nodded.  “I was not sure if they would make it before we arrived.” The Herald grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I had on good authority to recruit the Iron Slut would benefit the Inquisition, but now I wish I hadn’t.”

“All you two did was bicker and hiss at one another the whole trip here.”  Cassandra groaned, rolling her eyes.

“I had no idea she was so married to the Circles.” Evie gritted her teeth.  “If I did not know any better, I figured she was a templar for how much she wanted to lock up all the mages again.”

Cullen grimaced, hanging his head.  “While you are here, let talk about what happened in Val Royeaux.  It’s a shame the templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital.”

Evie’s glare could have burned Cullen to a crisp.  “At least we know how to approach the mages and templars now.”

Cassandra interjected.  “Do we?  Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.  He has taken charge since the Knight-Vigilant and the other templar leaders died in the Conclave.”

 Leliana waved the group towards the back of the building, away from the door as the first enchanter entered the building.  “True.  He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what?  My reports have been…very odd.”

“At least one of you have been follow up on my requests.”  Evie spat at Cullen.

The commander ignored the cut to his responsibility, focusing on their discussion.  If she wanted an explanation to why he was still in Haven, it could wait.  Her attitude towards him shifted constantly with every encounter.  He never knew where he stood.  “We must look into it.  I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.”

Evie cut in again.  “Born and die with your brothers, _Knight-Commander_.” She mocked, pushing the War Room door open.  “If you are so worried about _your kind_ , contact Knight-Commander Brycen of Hasmal.  A growing group of templars have gathering there, ignoring the order to go to Val Royeaux.  Many of them are from the Free Marches protecting mages who wished to remain neutral, including some templars from my family.  I already advised the templars we met in Val Royeaux to not follow the Lord Seeker and take your example.  Why did I do that, the Maker knows…”

Another dig at Cullen.  What had he done this time?

“One templar, Barris, was already questioning the leadership.  Leliana, maybe you can learn from him where in the Fade the Lord Asshole is taking them.”  Evie added.

“We can ignore the templars completely and simply go to meet the mages in Recliffe, instead.” Josephine suggested, one eye brow upward.

Cullen gritted his teeth, agitated by everything.  A migraine was quickly forming behind his eyes.  The ambassador was already showing support for the mages after the received news from the Orlesian capital.  Now that the Chantry was handled, the Antivan demonstrated her opinion in the struggle.

“You think the mage rebellion is more united?!”  Cullen cut the air in front of him with his hand.  Cassandra shut the back door behind her as everyone took their place around the War Room table.  “It could be ten times worse!”

Evie grabbed her braids and tugged.  “Or you could stop bickering and make a decision!  You are worse than the Chantry!”  She hollered, tossing her hands in the air.

“I agree.” Cassandra smirked, nodding towards the Herald.

“We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe.  The mages may be worth the risk.” Josephine added to support her preference.  Cullen was surprised Leliana had not joined the ambassador against him.

Cassandra countered her.  “They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realize.”

Evie nodded, squeezing her eyes shut.  “De Fucker and I agree on one thing: Fiona can make some stupid decisions.  However, I wish to know their status, thus why the party is leaving tomorrow morning for the Hinterlands.  We have been sitting on this bullshit for almost two months.”

“While you are there…”  Leliana’s Orlesian accent sang from Cullen’s right.  “Two days ago, agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall.  If you have the opportunity, please seek him out.”

Cassandra grunted.  “This again, Leliana.  We have more pressing concerns, such as if the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…”  Cullen was thankful that at least Cassandra was siding with him on the debate.

“The same could be said about the templars.” Josephine’s accent lilted as she tossed out the possibly.  Cassandra and Cullen both glared in her direction.

“What do you mean, ‘this again’?”  Evie eyed everyone in the room.

Leliana smiled, relieved the Herald heard her over the others.  “Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished.  I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared.  Ordinarily, I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all of this, but the timing is…curious.”

“Why is this the first time I have heard about it?”  Evie yelled, smacking the table.  “On all our expeditions, I could have been flushing this out!”

Leliana smirked, noting that the other advisors were trying to not lock eyes and faces with the Herald.  “The others have disregarded my suspicions, but I cannot ignore it.”

Evie made herself look bigger than she normally was.  Cullen could sense her magic collecting close to her body as the mark sparked on her hand.  “You all were ignoring a party member from the Fifth Blight!?  The woman traveled with the Hero Queen of Ferelden and King Alistair, and none of you thought it was important that the Grey Wardens, the mystical champions of Thedas, were gone!?  Maker’s arse!”  The mage flickered her fingers.  Flames puffed in her hands and then disappeared.  She did this several times, causing Cassandra to roll her eyes.

“What are you doing?!”  Cullen quizzed, feeling the mage’s magic intensify.

“Burning off mana, _Ser_.” Evie called back, drawing more mana from the mark.  “It is the only way to stabilize the mark without screaming in pain and my heart exploding.  Learned the trick from the assassin’s fight.”

“It is better than igniting the Chantry.”  Cassandra comment, crossing her arms over her chest again.  “You get used to it, Commander.”

Cullen noticed the Herald wince and sway after Cassandra spoke.  She leaned herself against the War Table to regain her composure.  After a few moments, she sighed and directed her attention back at Leliana.  “Have you contacted the king about this?  I know the man doesn’t keep track of his wife, but he must have some idea.”

Leliana nodded.  “Yes, although you are incorrect about him not knowing where the Hero is.  Cassandra and I contacted him before the Conclave in hopes to invite the queen, but he refused to give her location.”

“Is there a chance all the Wardens are together?”

“No,” Leliana shook her head.  “He did state that there were hints of Wardens on the Storm Coast, but the information is old.”

Evie nodded.  “Change of plans then.  I will go to the Storm Coast first, hoping to intercept the Wardens and meet that mercenary group.  I will send the First Enchantass and Varric to the Hinterlands, while Cassandra, Sera, and Solas join me.  Varric and I agree the Carta need pushed out of the Hinterlands to stop the rogue templars from getting their lyrium.  He is going to scout that mercenary castle.  I want to take the bullhorn witch to Redcliffe.  I am going to need some snacks, maybe a good Antivan tequila to watch Fiona and Rusty Bitch duke it out.  It will give me an idea how desperate the rebellion is at the moment, _if_ they are willing to work with the loyalists.”

The Herald sighed, turning towards the door.  “In the meantime, the Inquisition needs more agents in more places.  That is something all of you can help with.  Nightingale, Sera is a Red Jenny.  Take advantage of her contacts.  Ambassador, I want to know exactly the Chantry’s movements now.  They might be more receptive of us now that we have exposed one of the Grand Clerics as an accessory to commit murder.  Revered Mother Hevara and I had an interesting chat after she got bitch-slapped in front of Orlais.  She states that the Chantry is not looking for a winning horse, but we share a similar vision for the institution.  We cannot afford losing the one unifier of all Thedas.  _Knight-Commander_ , I want my horses!”

Evie swung the back door open as Cullen thundered forward.  “Where are you going?!”

“To take a bath!”  She shouted, staring right into his eyes.  “I smell like a skunk doused in perfume!  I would rather roll around in horse manure, but I don’t have _that_ option!  Now, good day!”  Cullen gripped his broadsword’s hilt as the Herald flicked two fingers up in a obscene fashion as she walked towards the Chantry’s cellars.

As the commander stood in the doorway gritting his teeth, the remaining advisors mumbled behind him.  “What’s got into her?”  Leliana asked.

“She has been like that since she and Varric went drinking in Val Royeaux.”  Cassandra grumbled, shaking her head.

“You allowed the Herald walk the capital?!”  Josephine exclaimed, her Antivan accent squeaking.

Cassandra sighed.  “Stock your family home with anything but red wine…unless you want a bonfire behind the townhouse.”


	13. Liberty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! 
> 
> Violent and bloody dream sequence at the chapter's beginning. The rest of the chapter is tense.
> 
> [#] denotes reference/citation material from game or other literature. Please see end notes.
> 
> Chapter Song: "The Requiem" by Linkin Park
> 
> This is actually one of my favorite chapter, despite all the bad stuff. 
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Evie minded where she placed her bare feet.  Pools of blood rolled towards her like slithering creatures.  The dead landed scattered throughout the visual area.  Her own blood ran from her brow and forehead down her cheeks and nose, dripping onto her ripped Circle robes that barely hung onto her battered shoulders.  Circling conflagration brightened the darkness, directing the tattered mage on a specific path towards a crumbled building on a hill.  The ancient stone buildings around her collapsed as their wooden supports became fuel for the blazes. 

Evie recognized the littered bodies as she walked forward.  Cassandra’s halo braid was undone as Evie stepped over her body three feet away.  Varric was impaled on a red lyrium spike to her right.  Bianca the Crossbow was in pieces beneath him.  Solas was frozen solid like a garden statue, but dyed the ice a dark pink hue.  The rogue elf Sera was riddled with arrows penned to a vertical beam.  Vivienne’s helm was shoved into her gut, while her body was drawn and quartered by four dead Orlesian Coursers.  Leliana was a black skeleton, her flesh burned away on the pike like Andraste, the Maker’s Bride.  The Tevinter mage, Dorian, who she have only met for a few moments dangled from a wire.  His blood dripped off his corpse from multiple knife wounds.  On the splintered ground, overturned buckets drained his blood into the cracks.  Josephine was striped to her smallclothes, two dagger driven into her back.  She laid face down in her own blood.  The Warden Blackwall, another recent acquaintance, had the Iron Bull’s halberd driven into his chest.  Her Qunari bodyguard’s remaining eye laid in his hand as his bloodied body leaned against a part of the destroyed Chantry.

Somehow the limping Evie did not purge.  Her eyes focused on the form staring into the flames at the end of the blood bath path.  Evie pulled her robes up to avoid her left breast being exposed, inching closer towards the shadow.  She lifted her free marked hand up, her fingers flicking in the air towards the figure.  With each step, the form took shape.  His hair danced in the blaze’s winds, undone for its original style.  The strange frock battled against his neck.

Evie winced as her bare feet were cut by glass shards scattered across the ground.  Still, she continued forward, eying the pulsing blue light illuminating the figure’s exposed arms and neck like spider webs interconnecting up to the man’s face.  Right as Evie’s glowing green hand touched the figure’s left shoulder, his head spun around.  Lustrous blue eyes flashed at her with blood dripping from a fresh cut above the man’s lip.  The man’s mouth gapped open as a thundering and shrieking voice boomed around her from the flames:

_“…Damnation will fall on anyone who crosses your path!”_

 

* * *

 

Evie jolted forward, grabbing her chest as she frantically looked around.  The mark sparked and cracked the air, giving off that horrific, ionized smell.  Evie gagged and swayed as she attempted to pull herself together.  She bit her coat’s left arm to contain her sobs and screams as the nightmare flashed across her mind.

The mage heard the rushing water first over the ringing in her ears.  She pulled off her suede glove, feeling the boulder’s coarse surface with her flashing marked hand and fingers.  Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing the Constellation Judex in the sky.  The constellation signified a downturned sword indicating a guilty verdict, meaning to execute, as well as the Sword of Mercy.[1]  Evie only knew that because of discovering the astrarium just a few days before.

Evie was in the Hinterlands.  She perched on a boulder hanging beside a waterfall near Calenhad’s Foothold.  The Herald purposely picked that spot that night so she could avoid the growing Inquisition party at the Outskirt Camp.  Everyone was alive.  She was ‘safe.’

“Judex.  Execute.  Mercy’s Sword.  Justice.”  Evie chanted, pulling mana from the mark, then burned it away with each finger flick.  Blast of fire puffed from her fingertips as she searched the Fade’s hollowing noise for her lone violin.  The mark slowly simmered down to a soft glow.

Tonight had to be the night.  They were almost finished in the Hinterlands.  Evie would not return anytime soon.

The mage envoy party arrived late that evening from Redcliffe Village.  Matters with the mages were direr, worse than any dream.  Fiona’s stupidity had reached an all-time high, signing away the mage elderly, men, women, and children to the Tevinter Imperium.  The grand enchanter had no memory of visiting the Herald in Val Royeaux, although that handsome Tevinter mage explained the cultist leader holding the rebellion’s leash had used time magic to beat Evie to the village.  The Inquisition advisors were too busy bickering at one another for two months, allowing the Vints—as The Iron Bull called them—to sweep in and take over Redcliffe Castle.

Redcliffe, Evie’s home away from home, now in foreign hands.  The castle was off limits.  The residents feared for their lives _again_.  Connor Guerrin wished he had never came back after what he done to everyone while possessed.  All the while, the skulls of several dozen Tranquil filled a shed nearby.  Arl Teagan was driven away, even when he never left his brother’s lands during the Blight.  Evie prayed to the Maker her childhood ‘shining knight’ would come and recuse the village again just like he had ten years before.

Evie vowed to save the mages, no matter if the Inquisition said to seek the templars in Therinfal Redoubt.  She would leave the cause if need be because mages deserved basic human rights, not locked up on tall towers surrounded by mountains and lakes.  They deserved to determine their own lives, not working in servitude to blood sacificers and slavers. 

Before that day, the Herald found the rebellion moronic, voted for by a small majority who embraced blood shed openly, not caring who was in the crossfire.  The Libertarians’ voices expanded in the council since she passed her Harrowing.  She almost joined the fraternity until she realized they were extremely radical.  All the fraternities of enchanters had become fanatical, believing their way was the only way.  Those tensions and the lack of academic debate led mages to fight each other because most disagreed on the rebellion’s purpose and goals.  There was no plan, only chaos. 

Now, Evie saw the war in a new light.  The Templar Order chose a former seeker as its leader, gathered in a crumbling castle, and formed a strong military force with thousands of trained warriors.  It embraced the Seekers of Truth’s stance to leave the Chantry because the institution could not contain the problem.  They chose their own beds and were sleeping comfortably.

The same could be said about the mages.  They “chose” servitude in exchange for protection.  Evie once read an eloquent quote that stated, “Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”[2]  However, you must know liberty to know when you do not deserve it.  Almost all mages were children when they were sent to Circles.  Evie was eight when she burned down the gazebo.  Freedom was elusive and foreign, only felt as she raced her horse across her family estate.  Many mages do not know what they wanted until it is denied.  It was robbed from them their whole lives, only obtained once they died.

The “children” had escaped their isolated prisons and must now learn what the world was truly like.  The mages left the cave and saw the stars for the first time, not the shadows cast against the wall.[3]  Evie was partly blessed, knowing the real world before her imprisonment. However, it was through a gilded cage controlled by her family.  When she left Ostwick a few months ago, the mage was thankful her father engrained some basic survival tactics and common sense in her.  Since joining the Inquisition, her knowledge and adaption had been pushed to new heights.

Which was why Evie must gain her own freedom that night.  She was out of time.

Evie stood up, stumbling a little in the dark as her equilibrium adjusted.  She grasped her newest staff of ironbark with metal enchanter head.  It held an amber focus stone.  The runes glimmered to life down the shaft as she gestured the air, producing an orb of light to follow over her head.  Unlike most mages’ candlelight spells, hers was a soft orange, not ice blue, reflecting her preferred element.[4]  She dusted off her suede coat and turned west.

“Where are you going, Evelyn?”

Evie twirled around, striking her staff into the boulder.  She readied herself to fight the voice coming from the darkness.  Her hollering orb pulsed light outward, expanding Evie’s depth of field a few more feet.  The voice’s owner moseyed out of Calenhad Foothold’s ruins, his bare feet slapping against the grass as some light glimmered off his bald head.  “Solas, why in the fuck are you out here?”

The elven apostate’s arms were behind his back as his silted eyes studied the former Circle mage closely.  “I was Fade walking in the old ruins.  I am surprised you did not see my wards.”

A nerve jumped in Evie’s cheek.  She felt ice magic nearby when she decided to sleep by the waterfall, but figured it was residue from all those crazy apostates they had eliminated in Witchwood nearby.  Her comrade had stated when they first found the crumbling caste that he was curiosity on what dreams the Foothold contained.

“I have been distracted these last few weeks.” Evie admitted, allowing her magic to dissipate from her body.

“It has been the topic of discussion around the camps,” He noted.  “But yet, you speak to no one about your concerns.”

Evie rolled her eyes as she attached her staff to her back.  “And you want to be that someone?”

“I just do not want to heal you ever time you act irrationally in battle.”  He explained.

Evie winced, rubbing her left bicep from where a terror had splayed her arm open earlier that day.  It was wrapped in linen to protect the stitches after Solas magically reconnected her tendons to her humerus bone.  She sighed, knowing she was being stupid.  Even more reason why she had to do it tonight.

A thought crossed her mind.  “Maybe you _can_ help me, Solas.”  She purred, hopeful to the result.  “As an apostate, you have never had this problem, but I feel you will be open to helping me regain something taken.”

Solas’ eyebrow perked upwards.  “I will help as I can.”

Evie beamed.  “Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Solas watched the Herald closely as they navigated the dark forest.  They took the southwest path past the lake where they had found the Grey Warden Blackwall towards the Grand Forest Villa.  The party captured the fortress a few days before and utilized it as a rendezvous location for troops.  The fire mage ignited a fire orb every few yards, tossing it to illuminate their path as well as to scare off any predators.  A single candlelight orb hovered over her head.  The team killed at least a dozen bears and a few packs of wild mabari throughout the region.  At one point, they were surrounded by three bears and one great bear at the Inquisition Forest Camp.  Evie spent most of an afternoon skinning the animals and sharing the meat with the Crossroads, commenting she could make five more suede coats out of all that hide.

The apostate concluded any remaining bandits from the villa had left the region.  While the Herald and her team were in Recliffe Village, Varric, Solas, Sera, and Iron Bull cleared the Carta operation in Valammar.  He had personally hoped to join her to meet the mage rebellion, but Evie argued that Vivenne’s presence would spark some extra discussion with the former grand enchanter.  From the Herald’s report once they met again at the Outskirts Camp, “spark” was a severe understatement. 

Although the elf had never lived in a Circle, knowing that the southern mages were under Tevinter control unnerved Solas.  He hoped to gain Evie’s ear to choose the mages to seal the Breach, but now was not the time to discuss the war.  Her determined stare and random smirks hinted the two mages were on a very important personal quest.

Solas knew that glimmer in Evie’s eyes as she stated she could use his help.  She had yet to state what they were doing, but the elven man kept his question to himself, knowing the truth would show itself in due time.  Evie’s pace quickened every so often, particularly as she flashed some flame behind a piece of wrinkled parchment.

The Herald stopped at a cave’s mouth in the far western part of the Hinterlands.  Solas glanced behind him, noting a small speck of light from a campfire.  They were near the Forest Camp.  He studied the cave, recognizing the vegetation as Evie flicked another fire orb inside.

“We closed a fade rift here yesterday…” Solas commented, watching as the fire mage entered the damp and dark place.  That particular rift was not difficult, but challenged the group as they battled misery and rage demons.  The apostate had to revive Sera after a terror tore her to shreds.  If he remember the maps clearly, this was named Old Simeon’s Cave.

“I nearly jumped out of my skin when I recognized it.” Evie giggled, following the walls.  Her eyes darted in all directions, looking for something.

“Recognized it how, Evelyn?”

The fire mage held up the wrinkled parchment.  “I’ll show you…”

The elf joined Evie in the center of the cave.  The starry night hung over their heads through a hole in the ceiling.  For more light, Evie tossed another candlelight orb above their heads.  It drifted upwards to illuminate the whole cave.  She held the parchment out in front of her.  It was covered in writing, an old letter she had reread numerous times with perpendicular paper creases.  He held her left hand far behind the parchment, flashing fire and sparks.

To the apostate’s amusement, a hidden, glowing purple designs appeared with each flash, disappearing after a few moments.  “Invisible ink…”

“…only visible with thermal energy.” Evie explained, smiling.  “My…baby brother…and I would make treasure maps with the ink, made from lyrium and few other minerals.  Our father gave us the recipe when he educated us on mining.  We traded maps to seek out each other’s hidden caches.  At the time, we used a candle or an oven’s residual heat to reveal the ink.  Once I was in the Circle, we wrote each other important information we did not want the templars or the family reading.  This…this is his last letter he ever sent me.  He was about to graduate from templar training and take his first draught of fully potent lyrium.  In the letter, he said he was no longer a little boy and had to let me go.  We were no longer brother and sister…but templar and mage.  It broke my heart, knowing he was letting me go, but then I found the map.  See the symbol in the lower right hand corner?  It is the heraldic seal of Redcliffe.  My family are close friends with the arl and the Geurrin family.  We visited here when we were children.”

Solas studied the woman beside him.  Tears pooled around her eyes as she swayed a little.  She steadied herself with her staff before she spoke again.  “When my Circle collapsed, my father approached me on the estate one evening as I tossed fire at piles of dead wood.  He asked if Rian even mentioned me leaving the Circle.”

“Rian…?”

Evie swallowed.  “Technically…my older cousin, but my father adopted him when his parents were murdered by blood mages.  He served in my Circle as a templar until I was eighteen.  He was my only friend during that time.” 

She wiped her cheeks as tears began to fall from her eyes.  “I told my father no.  I was to never leave.  My father corrected me, saying if it wasn’t for me insisting on going to the Circle, the family would have defied the Chantry and hid me away.  Change my identity.  It was crazy hearing my devout father—a lyrium transporter for the religious institution—to willingly sacrifice everything for his mage daughter.  While I was in the tower, my father, Rian, and my baby brother worked together to locate my freedom.  Each man used their resources and influence to bribe all sorts of people.  After my…Harrowing, something happened that made the task a priority.  This map…is their success.”

Evie folded the parchment, putting it back in her inner coat pocket.  “You must swear to me to tell no one.”

Solas placed his hand to his heart.  He knew what they were now searching for, feeling honored this mistrusting woman confided in him to share her personal journey.  “I swear upon the mother, Mythal.[5]  I am one of very few mages never to be locked away.  I thank you for allowing me to be part of this sacred duty.”

Evie’s genuine smile spread across her teary face and warmed the apostate’s heart.  He noted the mark’s glow was almost gone, responding to her calm emotions.  “Thank you…”

“Where shall we look?”

The Herald glanced around the dark cave, her face morphing as she thought.  “My brother always marked his cache locations with something I would recognize.  He would have made sure it was out of view so no one would bother it.  Anything that is questionable, let me know and I will dig around.”

Solas nodded, kneeling to scan the ground.  “Did he know about Veil fire?”

Evie shook her head no, pulling some her auburn bangs out her eyes.  “Probably not, he was a templar, but I doubt they would educate the brutes in something like that.  I only know about it because of my craft.  When you mentioned it in that old elven ruin, it juggled a memory from my apprentice years.  Any literature about that fire form was in elven or not permitted by the Chantry.”

“I can suggest some tomes to enlighten you, once you grasp a little more elven.” Solas remarked, causing Evie to chuckle.

“I am butchering your people’s language, Solas.”

“So you accidently pronounced some vulgar words…” Solas grinned, dusting his hand across the cave floor.  “Do not give up, da’len.”

Evie snorted.  “Don’t call me a child…”

Solas laughed.  “And Varric calling you, Monkey, is better?”

“Ha ha…”

The two continued surveying for a while in silence, methodically searching one side of the cave to the other for any odd signs.  The few places Solas suggested Evie waved away for being too easy or mundane.  Apparently, her brother was a creative person.

There was no magic to focus more on their location.  “Could the templar wards on the cache be obscuring our search?”  Solas suggested, remembering a codex containing information about the object.

“No.”  Evie sounded very sure.  “He would have removed them, if it meant I could not move or destroy it.  According to my father, this is not its original location.  Rian found which tower contained it because it was not kept in Ostwick.  The Order already anticipated my family might tamper with it.  Once I passed my Harrowing, it was moved again.  The search had to begin anew.  It was taken to another place after I became an enchanter.  I was considered a ‘high risk’ mage because my powers grew rapidly, and I enjoyed training as a battlemage.   If the Circles still remained, I would be a senior enchanter now.  This letter hinted that my brother spent the last months at the White Spire searching for the third location, notifying my father once he knew.  He broke the wards and moved it to the Hinterlands.  Maker’s arse, where is it?!”

Solas’ hunt led him to an upper layer of rocks on the right back side of the cave.  He felt cold air coming from an inter-sanctum Evie had missed when she scanned the area earlier.  “Evelyn…”

The fire mage was on the far side of the cave, tossing a new light orb upwards.  She walked over to the apostate, climbing up beside him.  She grinned, forming another orb in her other hand and tossing it into the out cove.  It landed on top of a skeleton.

“Andraste’s tits!”  Evie screamed, tumbling down the ridge side.  Solas could not help by chuckle a few times.  The fire mage threw him a look, only noticeable because of the orb hanging over her head.  “Haha…”

The Herald climbed again, kicking her legs over the ridge and entered, utilizing her two light sources to see.  The skeleton held a blood-soaked letter, wishing his family to know what happened to him.  Evie folded the note and placed it in her pocket for safe keeping.[6]  She said a few prayers to her Maker before returning to her task.

A few more moments passed as Solas felt Evie’s magic gather.  The mark sparked a few times, signifying she was getting frustrated.  Solas wondered if this was even the correct cave.

“Wait, why are _you_ here…?”

Solas’ eyes shifted to a stalagmite in a far corner.  The elf entered the outcrop, while Evie went to investigate.  “What is it?”

Evie giggled like a little girl.  “A rock that shouldn’t be in the Hinterlands.  You funny little boy…”  She used all her muscles to move it, dragging it over the gravel until Solas saw a blood red, cubed rock.  “Pyrophite.  This can only be mined in the Emerald Graves.  Good ole kid.  Only a mining tycoon’s children would know this was not drakestone.”

The fire mage lit another light orb above her so she could scan the gravel and soil.  She started to dig with her fingers, reaching her intended cache after a few dirt plows.  Evie knocked on the object in the ground.  It was wooden and hollow.  She clapped, digging more around the cache. 

Solas watched from afar as the Herald pulled a dirty, wooden box from behind the stalagmite.  She kept kneeled as she inched herself out of the outcrop towards Solas, forcing the apsoate to exit the small space.  Once Evie left the area, she sat on the ridge beside the elf, bouncing happily.

“I will give you your space…” Solas offered, moving away.

“Please, stay…” Evie patted the rock beside her.  “I want to share this with someone.”

Solas nodded, taking his seat beside the human woman.  She dusted the wooden box a few times with her gloved hand, exposing an ornate carving on its lid.  “The Trevelyan Family seal…” she explained as she felt the sides for a switch.  It took the woman a few moments to scan the outside since there was no visible lock or seam.  The mark twitched her left hand when she felt underneath the box towards the back.  A _click_ echoed throughout the cave as the lid popped open a bit.  Evie grasped the edges and flipped it openly slowly.

Despite the box looking quite deep, the inside only held a compressed piece of parchment.  Evie took a deep breath, taking off her gloves.  Her bare hands grasped the corner as gravity unfolded it once.  Evie used her other hand to open the multiple folds until both mages stared at a blank sheet.

 “Another thermal ink…?” Solas observed.

Evie automatically flicked a flame into her left hand far enough away from the parchment so the heat would respond to the paper, but not set it ablaze.  Both mages waited in anticipation for a few moments.  Nothing.  The flame in Evie’s hand died out, as she flicked the spell to life again.  She inched the fire closer to the paper.  The flames made the parchment’s edges turn a shade of brown, but nothing responded.

“Damn it…” the woman hissed, dropping her left hand from behind the blank parchment.

“Maybe the box contains a clue.”  Solas suggested, referencing the shallow box.

Evie searched the inside, her fingers followed a closed wooden seams connecting multiple pieces of wood.  “It’s a puzzle.  My paternal grandfather loved puzzles.  I never met the man, but he would design puzzles for house guests to solve on long summer days.  My brother and I sat in our country home, attempting to solve them while my father worked in the study.  This must be one of them.”

“Did you learn the puzzles’ tricks?”

Evie shook her head.  “Each was different, unique from other brainteasers.  Some were controlled by wires so you had to pull a _very_ specific wire for it to unravel.  Others dealt with a ring you had to feed from one location to another to connect an electrical circuit.  The man was a templar, spending a great deal of time with mages who would test each other’s skills.  He understood the magical arts as much as being a knight and a rogue, using it to rip his competitors apart.”

The Herald rubbed her forehead with her free hand, while the other grasped the parchment felt the ridges.  “This one seems like a puzzle where all the wooden pieces are fastened together so tightly that they form a solid layer.  Pushing a very specific piece will allow the whole puzzle to fall away.  Breaking the puzzle anywhere else usually set off an explosion or a poison ruining the contents _and_ the person attempting to access those contents.  My brother received an acid burn one time he got frustrated with one of Grandfather’s cyptex.[7]”

“We could take back these contents and work on it in safety.”  Solas proposed, feeling new energies entering their area.

“No, my father specified it all must be done here.”  Evie demanded, returning her attention to the parchment.  “Now, knowing it is a puzzle box, his advice about humidity and temperature makes since.  If it is poison, whatever vessel is holding it will decay if removed from the cave.  There are other contents besides what I seek here, the last gifts from my brother that I do not wish to lose.”

Solas locked eyes on the fire mage, seeing the pain and suffering she has felt throughout her experience.  “Your brother is dead, isn’t he?”

Evie’s green eyes shot away as her chest filled with air.  “Yes.  Rian…Esme…both of them.  My knights…my friends…my blood, gone.  They’re dead for a duty that never existed.  Everything we are facing now stems back to that stupid sacrifice.  If…”  Tears streamed down her cheeks down along her jaw.  “If _real_ heroes did what they were supposed to do, my brothers would be alive and well, along with everyone we have seen, Solas.  I blame a few people for the chaos inflicted on thousands of people throughout Thedas.  That is why I am here.  That is why I am standing with the Inquisition.”

She rubbed the tearful streams away.  “You asked me when we first met in Haven, what type of hero I would be.   I replied the kind who lives to become that embarrassing former hero everyone puts up with.  I was lying, being sarcastic to cover up the very idea of being compared to those before me.  I want to be someone who no one has to clean up the mess.  The choices we make with the Inquisition will be final.  The results and potential consequences must be minimal so someone else does not have to take the mantle and…clean it up again.”

Her gazed returned to the elf.  “You have seen those mistakes, the reenactments in the Fade.  I hope those later reenactments are kind to us, not two different versions of the same thing like Ostagar.”

“The world is not simply black and white picture, da’len.” Solas consoled the human.  “We might not know the consequences of our actions for ages, millennia.  I have watched you closely since you walked out of the Fade.  You follow your conscience and take advice where your knowledge and common sense is limited.  You form the best conclusions and act with the least ramifications.  Continue to do so and you might yet reach your desired hero personification.”

Evie nodded, closing her eyes.  Her attention seem to drift as she bobbled and weaved her head side to side.  At last, she slowly opened her eyes.  They drifting to the parchment.  “What is…Maker’s arse…!”

Solas watched as the fire mage jumped off the ridge and run to the middle of the cave where the hole shifted displaying stars to the dawn’s sky.  She placed the box and parchment down, reaching into her coat.  She unbuttoned her vest and pulled off her scarf, digging for something close to her body.  The apostate winced as she pulled out a rectangular potion bottle.

“Solas, get some twigs and collected them here.” Evie requested, pointing at the cave floor out in front of her.

Solas nodded, turning towards the vegetation lining the cave.  He dug for dried leaves and broken twigs under the bushes and samplings.  After the search, he brought the kindling to the designated spot.  Evie started constructing a very basic campfire with the collected materials.  Once assembled in a cone, she poured the liquid from the bottle over the wood and leaves.  She bit her bottom lip.

“Did I ever tell you I started drinking alcohol when my brother was born…?”

Solas shook his head.  “You have been quite reserved about your youth, Evelyn.”

“I could say the same about you.”  The mage cooed, perking an eyebrow.  “My brother was five years younger than me.  When I heard he was a boy, not the wished-for baby sister I always wanted, I stormed out of my mother’s room.  I found the family’s wine cellar almost empty of booze because my father and his friends were celebrating his first son.  I hide behind the barrels.  My temper tantrum was terrible.  I started smashing bottles all over the floor, including a Storm Age Grey Warden whiskey from Ferelden…”

“The Grey Wardens were banished from Fereldan during the Storm Age…” Solas ah-ha’d in the air, anticipating the next part of the story.

“Precisely…one of the last bottles of whiskey ever produced, found in Soldier’s Peak by Arland Therin’s men.  The bottle was passed down through the Trevelyan line.  I _smashed_ it against a chamber pot.”

“Creators’ above…”

“My father…Maker, I thought I was going to die.” Evie chuckled.  “He made me lick that chamber pot clean, no matter what was inside.  My first taste of alcohol, mixed with waste and whatnot.  For that point onward, I have been drinking _anything_ to find out what that whiskey actually tasted like so I could separate stool and urine from the alcohol.”

Evie motioned the apostate to her side, the parchment in hand.  Solas kneeled by her, focusing on her finger pointing at a drawn griffon with a lightning bolt in its talon and cloud over its head.  “You know what color fire is when it burns alcohol…?”

The fire mage flick sparks into their small campfire.  Blue flames burst from the small structure, illuminating the parchment and cave.  Instantly, the parchment bled words and ink.  Both mages automatically sat down and read the contents.

Solas felt he should not pry, but the Herald’s quest intrigued him:

_Dearest Sister,_

_You have done it.  You are free.  You have conquered your worst fears and came here to claim what has been always yours.  These will be the last words I will ever say to you for I travel to the lion’s den.  Father arranged it that the ship meant to carry me to my final destination would be suddenly sacked by pirates, allowing me travel time from the Korcari Wilds to here with your Liberty.  The Order did not want you having this, placing it in the middle of a swamp where was I was almost shot by a Chasind.  Evie, you would have looked upon that land and felt all the death there.  No life grew there, the ground tainted by the Blight.  I came out untouched, thank the Maker.  I did not care if I died there if it meant your chains were broken._

_Mine are firmly griped on my wrists and ankles now, as yours have been for decades.  I hear your song now, sister:  the violin in the symphony.  It pumps through my veins, changing me.  Our family’s riches were made by binding men and women to something we non-mages are not meant to consume.  The day you left with the templars, I vowed to join you.  I wanted magic too, but alas, the gift and curse was only yours and yours alone.  So, I became the second_ best _thing._

_Rian told me I would be your captive and jailor, wishing me to reconsider.  We both know why Rian took that path, but you might not know the exact details.  It is more gruesome than you can imagine, but I do not have the time or ability to properly write it here.  Just know he had his reasons for disobeying Father and following Grandfather’s lead as a templar.  I did it to be with you, my only friend.  Patricia always made it clear we were not welcomed.  Her terror intensified after you left. My heart broke every waking moment, only pieced together by your letters, your words._

_Now, I can never join you.  I was never told why, only that it was agreed upon by Father, the Grand Cathedral, the Templar Order, the Seekers of Truth, and the Ostwick mage leadership.  What happened to you?  Why are so many major leaders involved?  With that, I completed what Rian started.  Maybe one day we will see each other walking down the street, not knowing it is the other.  I will carry that hopeful fantasy with me as I sail across the Waking Sea._

_Love, hugs, kisses, and laughs,_

_Ser Templar-Knight Esme Monroe Trevelyan_

_Your Former Brother and Best Friend_

 

Along the letter’s bottom ridge was a list of numbers with one specifically circled.  The apostate concluded this was the solution to the puzzle box.  Soon, the words and numbers started to fade.  Solas glanced up at the Herald.  Her marked hand was over her mouth as she bit muscle below her thumb to conceal her sobs.  She had done the same when Solas first noticed her waking by the waterfall.

It was true the apostate had venture out to the Calenhad’s Foothold that evening to walk the Fade, but the Herald had triggered one of his spiritual warning spells, most likely an unknown magic to her because of her sheltered magical education.  He immediately awoke, venturing out of the ruins to see her take her seat by the waterfall.  Evie fell asleep quickly, exhausted from her trying day. 

Within some time, Evie was dreaming, tears rolling down her cheeks like many nights before.  It was an unspoken rule between Solas, Varric, and Cassandra to never speak about her nightmares.  She already slept in strange places and did not need to be further estranged.  Varric mentioned as their party grew he would tell the other party members about her behavior, saying little but enough so they would not be alarmed or badger her.  The Herald’s relationship with the Orlesian mage they had picked up outside Val Royeaux was tense.  Luckily, the city elf, Sera, did not like the first enchanter.  Varric told the elf to annoy the woman any time she bothered the Herald.  Apparently, free drinks were all the reward she needed for pranking the enchantress.  It kept her away from camp at night and out of sight of Evie’s behaviors.

The secrecy was not going to last forever.

Solas was being honest about Evie’s mistrust and hush attitude.  From the contents of the letter, Evie’s life as a noble daughter was anything but simple.  However, she had yet reach out to anyone for comfort or advice, only focusing on the missions and tasks needed completed by the Inquisition.  The apostate was relived she had gained control over the mark when her emotions spiked.  However, she did not release the pressure building inside her until it was too much and her temper exploded, usually accompanied by fire.  If someone did not help her release the air slowly from time to time, she would not survive, mentally and physically.

The Fade was a dangerous place.  Solas educated the woman on his views about spirits and demons, opening her viewpoint beyond the Chantry’s teachings.  Yet, he was still at risk of possession, but Evie swore demons never tempted her.  They were always in her dreams, but never engaging in her desires, rage, and misery.  They watched and laughed at most.  It did not make sense.  This was truly a risky, powerful battlemage with a foreign power that could end the world.  Solas must remain in her company until _everything_ became clear.

Evie dropped her hand, gripping the open puzzle box in her lap.  The tears were gone, much like the words on the parchment.  Without looking, her index finger pressed on the tightly woven wood blocks; its tip on a block near the lower left hand corner.  With a little pressure, the piece slipped and all the blocks fell as the pressure gave way.

Evie was yet to look.  Solas did not dare to as the fire mage felt a thin glass cylinder beneath the piece she had pushed.  She gripped the liquid filled item and tossed it into the flames.  The cave exploded with in light as the flames changed from oranges to purple, green, blue, and back to orange.  The alcohol poured over the campfire had burned away a long time ago.

Finally, Evie’s bright green eyes gazed upon the remainder of the box.  In between the shattered wooden puzzle pieces, a silver thimble rested on an embroidered handkerchief covered in a flowering multi-colored lilies.  On one end of a gold interlocking chain was a signet ring, resembling the same heraldry as the box’s lid.  On the other end was golden circular object with two red glass vials pointing at the center like a sand timer.  Evie grasped the circular pendent, holding the red vials to her face as if it spoke to her.  She radiated happiness and relief.  Solas joined in her joy, smiling and nodding continuously.  The light streamed through the hole in the cave.  Dawn had broken outside.

They had succeeded. 

They had successful retrieved her phylactery.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] From “Codex Entry: Constellarion:  Judex.”  It was referred to the concept of justice in ancient Tevinter before the Sword of Mercy.
> 
> [2] Benjamin Franklin from “Reply to the Governor.”  It was written for the Pennsylvania Assembly on November 11, 1755.  It is one of my personal favorites.  I immediately thought of it when I played the mage rebellion side of Dragon Age:  Inquisition.
> 
> [3] A reference to Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” from his work, Republic.
> 
> [4] Similar to the spell, “Candlelight” from The Elder Scrolls V:  Skyrim.  I love that spell and had to bring it to Dragon Age.
> 
> [5] Mythal is the elven goddess of protection and justice, applicable to the situation, even beyond Solas’ relation at the end of the game and in the Trespasser DLC.
> 
> [6] Reference to “Note:  A Letter Found on a Corpse” for the quest “Hinterland Who’s Who.”
> 
> [7] A cyptex is that strange puzzle cylinder in “The Di Vinci Code.”


	14. Irony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW (Cullen is a pervert ;))
> 
> Chapter Song: "Like a Waterfall" (Flipside Version) by JES

The Iron Bull had his work cut out.

“Again…”  the Qunari spy sighed, his right hand waving for the being on her back.  “Get up.”

“Can I at least heal myself…?”  The human groaned, holding her stomach from the last hit.

“No,” Bull mumbled.  “We are working on basic non-magical survival tactics.  You will not always have your mana and lyrium on hand.  I am here to make sure you survive those instances.”

The Iron Bull took an immediate liking to his new boss.  Although she had primarily brown hair, it shimmered red when her curls were knocked loose or she used her magic.  It would made sex fun and exciting, if she ever agreed to sleep with him.  She needed to get laid, wound tight like a tense spring.  If there was a tamassran or whore house nearby, he would have drag her there immediately.  By how training was going, he would need a relaxing day of sex as well.

The boss had a mouth on her, discourteous and feisty, and an explosive temper that almost made the Qunari grab her and take her behind a rock in the Storm Coast.  He liked partners with wit and sarcasm, who could give as much as take.  The two bantered as soon as they started clearing the coast of Vints and fade rifts.  They always searched for something more offensive or vulgar to outdo each other.  The rogue Sera loved the whole show, using her hands to make obscene gestures as the boss and Iron Bull continued their playful exchange at camp.

However, the towering man figured out that the mage’s quip persona was a fallacy, easily detectable to the Ben-Hassrath.  The woman had a great deal of bandage, pushing away anyone who remotely got close.  That baggage fueled her temper and irrational fighting style, almost getting herself and those in her party killed. 

The information the ship captain provided from her noble father, Bann Trevelyan, stated her basic rogue tactics were never refined, more attuned to defense than offense.  Assassination attempts were a constant problem before she was sent to the Circle.  Even then, the training was kept secret, typically disguised as dancing.  Once her magic manifested, her battlemage education had been stifled by the Circle and Chantry’s laws, not allowing her to train openly should she rebel against the institutions. 

Her lack of proper instruction showed that day as they practiced outside the Crossroads.  The Iron Bull gathered his mercenary clan, the Bull’s Chargers, and the boss to spar on the flat plains behind hamlet’s tunnel gate.  The different parties gathered together waiting for the Inquisition’s commander and his troops to escort horses and a horse master back to Haven.  News reached them the night before that the commander would arrive late today.   Bull took the opportunity to test his new boss on her fighting strengths and weaknesses.  It was quickly evident she was a strong fire mage, but she did not allow her regular techniques to show without using magic.  So, the Qunari requested the seeker, Cassandra, to join and keep the magic in check.

“Nope.”  The Iron Bull quipped, looking at the short haired shield maiden leaning against a stone wall.  “Seeker?”

“She tried, but she’s all worn out.”  The Nevarran chuckled as the mage reached her feet again.

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you!?” The mage hollered, kicking a rock at the warrior.

Cassandra smirked, her arms crossed over her breastplate.  “With great delight.  I covered your behind for the last few months.  It is your turn to get some scars from your rash actions.  I just wished I had a glass of wine and some candy to truly appreciate the show.”

The mage pushed herself up to fully stand, still gripping her stomach as she balanced herself with a quarterstaff.  “Let’s really start pulling hair out, bitch…”

“No…” Bull cooed as he turned around.  “Dalish and Grim are your opponents today, each specialized in two-handed weapons.”

“Dalish gets a staff with a blade…” His boss groaned, lifting her tunic and displaying the fresh gash on her side.  “You took mine.”

“You could not hold you magic.” Bull replied, pointing to his two mercenaries to begin again.  “Behave yourself and you can get a blade back.”

“I am cutting off your dingle berries and sticking them on your horns, you blue-balled druffalo.”  The mage hissed, twirling the staff to begin again.

“You are wearing her out, Chief.” Krem called from his own training practice with Skinner.  “That is her weakest insult yet.”

The mage flicked off the Tevinter man.  “I did not sleep well last night.  Didn’t know I was going to have arse hung out to dry by the big brute.”

 “Better me than your enemy.” Bull remarked.

“At least take me out to dinner first.  The templars did that at least before begging the apprentices for a handjob!”

Dalish swung her staff and swept the mage’s legs out from underneath her.  The whole group burst out laughing as the mage landed on her bottom again.  Cassandra beamed happily as the woman groaned and rolled on either side.

“This is too easy now, Chief.” Dalish mumbled, kicking the quarterstaff away from the mage’s grasp.  “It isn’t fun anymore…”

Iron Bull sighed, glancing up at the sky.  The sun hung only above the tree line as the shadows grew long around them.  “All right.  You’re done, but this isn’t going away, Boss.”

“I don’t fucking care…” The mage groan, sprawling herself out across the dirt.  “…thank the Maker, Creators, Old Gods, New Gods, and wondrous booze that this day is _over!_ ”

Bull walked towards his student, noting his mercenaries were finishing some final drills.  Cassandra patting the Qunari’s shoulder, mouthing ‘thank you’ before making her way back to camp.  “You need help up?”

The mage shook her head.  “Nope.  Just want to die right here.  If I somehow don’t, I know where there is a hidden waterfall that I am going to sit under and soak.  Maybe I’ll drown.”

Iron Bull chuckled, nudging the mage’s belt with his boot.  “Don’t die on me, Boss.  I’m just getting started.”  Evie replied with another obscene gesture before flopping her hand and arm back down on the ground, grunting on impact.

 

* * *

 

Quiet.  Blissful quiet.

Cullen forgot how quiet his home country could be until he wandered the forest by himself.  His head ached as the migraine drilled at his skull.  Thankful for the low light as the tree filtered the sun’s rays, his eyes blurred every time he tried to use them to watch his step.  If in Haven, he would just use his ears.  Even then the buzzing would cause him to run into someone.  His muscles strained to keep his head up as he continuously rubbed his neck.

The lyrium withdraw symptoms were terrible today.  They had been a constant issue since leaving Haven.  The commander left the village right after his shouting match with the Herald, not stopping until one of his men begged him to camp.  The woman infuriated him to the point where he almost endangered the troops’ wellbeing.  Cullen wanted to prove her wrong.

Now, Cullen can demonstrate to her he _can_ to his job, although not without cost.  He nearly lost his sanity when Master Dennet thanked the Inquisition for completing the watchtowers, but still refused to join their cause himself.  All the advisors had agreed Master Dennet would be an invaluable agent.  Redcliffe’s cavalry were one of the best ever seen in Thedas, and such talent could make all the difference on the battlefield.  The commander hated to admit that Madam Vivienne actually saved him from the Herald’s wrath, showing up on her Orlesian Courser and suggesting turning to an Orlesian horse master instead of a reluctant and barely passable Andrastian.  The statement angered Dennet and declared his commitment right there.  The enchantress looked like she was going to ask the commander for something, but instead rode away with a small grin on her face.

Cullen stopped by a stream, pinching his nose.  Tomorrow, the Herald’s party and his Inquisition troops would ride back to Haven to make a final decision about sealing the Breach.  When the commander reached the Outskirts Camps only a bell ago, he was informed that Evie was out with the Inquisition’s new mercenary group running drills.  Cassandra was with them, meaning the two people he needed to support the templars were unavailable.  He wished to reaffirm his stance before all the advisors argued for hours in the Chantry backroom in Haven.  Cassandra clearly supported the templars before the Herald’s visit to Redcliffe, but he had yet heard the outcome with their meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona.  He wanted to enter the meeting fully informed so he could properly argue his case.

It was unclear who the Herald would vote for prior to coming to the Hinterlands.  The mage never voiced her opinion openly regarding the war.  She never clarified why she was at the Conclave.  She seemed to not agree with the mage rebellion, but she also made it clear, specifically to him, she disliked templars.  Cullen blamed his own missteps that night by the lake for losing her limited comfort, wishing he could call it trust.  Since that night, Evie bashed and hollered at anything he said or did.  Her attitudes intensified once she returned from Val Royeaux.

Now, they would be riding together for two days back to Haven.  Cullen had to find a way to work with a woman, who now considered him incompetent knight-commander who was going to doom the Inquisition.  Something else must have happened that caused a small error of judgement to become a torn hole like the Breach.

Cullen turned to his left to follow the water upstream around a rock.  His eyes thankfully worked for a moment before he exposed his location.  His boot planted in place as Cullen registered the area around him.  He was actually on a slanted ridge where the stream drained a pooled area below a waterfall.  He had heard the surrounding area above the Upper Lakes Camp contained several ponds and waterfalls.  This was a tributary to the river that flowed by the Redcliffe Farms Camp.  One reason the watchtowers took longer than usual is because the troops were forced to rebuild the destroyed bridge on the West Road to properly cart supplies to the designated area.

The sight was calm and comforting, reminding the man of his childhood lake, his sanctuary from his siblings.  He suddenly felt at peace as the day’s troubles slowly washed away from his stressed shoulders and confused mind.  He knelt by the stream, cupping some river water into his bare palm, bringing it to his lips.  The cool drink refreshed his dry mouth.  He closed his eyes, allowing his senses to drift away as the smell of cloves and orange citrus waffled in the breeze.

Cloves and citrus?

Cullen’s ambers eyes flashed open as he searched the area, his chest tightening.  A cough to his left by the tall waterfall directed his gaze.  He froze in his knelt position, alarmed and captivated by the scene he never noticed before.

Her marked hand was to her mouth as she coughed a few more times, trying to dislodge the water that flowed into her nose as the water cascading over her nude body.  Her back was to the pond, her skin blending into the early evening sun’s rays that lightened the upper part of the area.  Slowly, she rested her hand back to her side as she once again lifted her face towards the flowing water from the high rock ridge above her.  Her auburn hair lined her back nearly to her bottom.  The water pulling it straight as it rinsed itself of bubbles.  She reached behind her neck and pulled it forward, brushing her fingers through it to wash away the soap.

Cullen slowly inched his way back behind the rock, his face burning as he wished his eyes would break from the sight.  Suddenly, he could see with greatest clarity.  His migraine disappeared.  His senses were refreshed and stable.  His mind told him no, telling him to not stare and leave.  His senses said yes.  He pulled at his mouth and chin, trying to break his focus. 

Some bubbled soap washed downstream as the wind filled his nose with oranges and cloves.  That is why he always smelled it in her presence.  It was her soap she used to cleanse her body and hair.  The commander’s thoughts wandered back to a few short moments in Haven weeks before.  He witnessed Fesill and the Herald working with some oils and gathered herbs outside the apothecary hut.  Druffalo fat cooked in a cauldron nearby while the elf and mage crushed herbs into paste.  The mage specifically shuffled though a bag of food waste, specifically pulling out orange and lemon peels.  She would leave her station to mix powdered lye into the boiling animal fat, along with some whole herbs and seeds.  They were making scented soap with the animal fat she collected hunting and the herbs she gathered for the apothecaries.  Haven’s air transformed from a foul, overcrowded village into an uplifting sanctuary for the senses.

Citrus and cloves were her personal scents of choice.

A whispering voice in the back of his mind kept saying he should journey back into the forest and back to camp, giving her privacy.

Eve looked beatific.

All respectable consciousness left his body.

Evelyn. Evie. He preferred Eve, especially seeing her like this.

Since her digs in Haven, Cullen refused to use her name, trying to distant himself from the woman who had attacked his character and duty, two things that were very important to him.  By creating distance, he wished to end the tug of war in between his personal feelings and his obligations. 

Yet, her real name was always on his mind every time he said ‘Herald.’  She hated that title and what it meant.  He did too, not because he did not believe she was sent by the Maker, but more because it placed her in harm’s way, specifically against assassins who attempted to claim her life.  The commander could protect her while she was in Haven, but not from the wolves that circled outside the valley.  He could not venture with her, just station guards in camps and make sure Harritt kept her party well equipped.

The beautiful being under that waterfall was not a chosen messenger or a fire mage, but a vulnerable woman who he had console several times.  Even while she bathed, Evie was exposed and defenseless, using it as an excuse to stay.  Cullen noticed her staff a few feet from her grasp, leaning against a rock to her right.  Through the running water, her clothes and armor could be seen behind the waterfall on some rocks.

Her body presented evidence of her true fears and vulnerability.  Her back was covered with layers upon layers of long scars, some red and others whiter than her skin.  He knew where they originated for he gave mages such scars in his former life.  Evie must have been lashed on multiple occasions by the templars in her Circle.  He knew she was placed in solitary confinement many times because of her preferred places to sleep, but physical abuse was supposed to be only for the greatest crimes.  Yet, this woman had layers of scars from several punishments.  What had she done to deserve it?

The former templar noticed more about her form as the sun highlighted her location in the waterfall.  The back of her thighs and biceps were discolored and ridged, different from her lightly tan Free Marcher skin.  Burn scars, possibly from her own magic.  That made no sense because inferno mages were resist to their own abilities, avoiding injury.  The only instances he had ever seen self-caused burns were on mages whose magic occurred while unconscious or in a state they could not properly protect themselves.

Questions rolled through Cullen’s mind as he watched Evie turn her back away.

The commander’s mind alerted him to divert his eyes.  The man squeezed his eyes shut, fighting his urge to witness everything about her.  His chest tightened as the war inside him intensified.  He glanced only for a moment.

Evie’s long wet hair covered her bosom, taking their form as the curls fixed themselves to her moistened skin.  A quick thought crossed his mind of how her breast would fill his palm as he squeezed it; his callus thumb and finger pinching her nipple.  Was she a moaner, whiner, or screamer?  She might bend her head back so her cascading orange and clove hair would fall from her chest and expose her full beauty.  His imagination raced on their shape and firmness as she might buck against him as he brought her nipple to his scarred lip to suckle. 

Cullen forced himself to study something else, feeling his cheeks burn and heat well up inside him.  More scars, some recent by their pink hue, lined her sides and stomach along with more burn marks.  Her soap bar rubbed over the areas, causing her to wince as the suds seeped into her stitched wounds.  Many people would consider her ugly and disfigured, but the commander did not.  Each scar had a story, much like his own, specifically on his upper lip.  It explained her.  They showed she survived and kept her true self hidden.

Evie’s hands wondered towards her hips, pulling at some cloth ever so often to wash herself.  He realized then she wore lower, cream small clothes that stuck to her woman form.  This meant that he had not witnessed her bottom before.  Cullen should have been relieved and return to being a respectful and modest man, but disappointment and excitement wailed up inside him.  He desired to grasp at the hem and pull away the clothes to expose her completely.  From her shape, her bottom would fit even better in Cullen’s hands as he would pull her against his body and hold her there.  His hands searching for her inner essence, truly discovering what sounds she would make as his fingers followed her folds before pressing inward.    

Eve was beautiful.

The commander pressed his back against the rock away from the view, covering his eyes with both hands.  His plated leather trousers were tight against his shaft.  “Maker’s breath…what am I doing…?”

“What the…!”

Cullen stilled himself, hearing her voice boom against the cliff walls and downstream.  His boot shifted underneath him as he tried to keep the awkward stance, causing a stone to roll forward and into the water.

Immediately, Cullen’s lyrium veins alerted the former templar that magic gathered.  _She_ was gathering her magic.  She prepared to attack the interloper who disturbed her bath.  The Herald was about to ignite him for watching her nude body, and he would most definitely deserved it.

Cullen’s head and back were pressed as tightly as physically possible against the boulder blocking her view downstream.  Water splashed a few times, most likely footsteps as she walked forward to discover the noise.  She stopped to listen again.

The commander held his breath.

A few more splashes closer to his hiding spot.

Guilt and excitement struggled together as his mind went blank.

_Flash!_

A fireball landed in the bushes only a few feet from his location as a nug jumped and howled in fright and pain.  It fell silent and died after a few seconds.

“…ugly naked rodents…”  The woman huffed as splashes rippled through the water away from him.

Cullen utilized the large sounds to run back into the brush.

 

* * *

 

The commander did not relax and slow his pace until he was just outside the Outskirts Camp.  The camp was alive with activity as the different groups gathered to return to Haven in the morning.  Pitched tents filled an abandoned wheat field, most likely for his men.  Corporal Vale stated before the commander went for a walk that he would handle everything.  Cullen was starting to think the solider deserved a promotion for single-handedly keeping the Hinterlands operations working without little instances, sans the horse master of course.

Corporal Vale was speaking with the female requisition officer, Marcs, when Cullen approached.  He hoped his face was a more natural color after his brisk run back to camp, yet he still felt his skin burning and his chest aching.  The commander just wanted to go to his tent and be alone.

“Commander!”  Vale called as Cullen attempted to move pass the soldiers.

“Yes, corporal?”  Cullen muttered, hoping he was in shadow to hide his guilty expression.

“A letter for you, sir.”  The corporal pulled a letter from his armor pocket.  “A carrier arrived about half a bell ago.  Captain Rylen labelled it as urgent.  The captain forwarded it here, per your request.”

Cullen took the letter, recognizing the writing immediately.  The struggle in his chest intensified.  “Thank you.  I need to address this quickly.  Where is my tent?”

 “Across from the Herald and the Seeker’s, sir.” The requisition officer stated, pointing towards a campfire on the other side of the table.  “Your belongings are already inside.”

"Good.  Thank you both.  Please alert the officers that I will be unavailable.”

“Understood, sir.” Both soldiers saluted with their right arm over their chest, thumping once against their Inquisition breastplates.

Cullen nodded back, fast walking towards the ring of tents by the designated campfire.  The area was crowded, unnerving the commander as his anxiety rose.  Several people, some of which he did not recognize, circled the fire as they ate, drank, and laugh.  The flames highlighted their faces as dusk fell over the Hinterlands.  The elf archer, who commented on his behind in Haven, was flicking oats at the Orlesian enchantress, who was reapplying some rouge.  Cassandra bantered with a bearded man with griffons on his pauldrons on his arms and chest, referencing shield movements.  Varric was playing _Diamondback_ with a huge horned Qunari man with an eye patch.  The Tevinter warrior he had seen in Haven and a Dalish mage were playing as well.  Another Tevinter mage stood away from the group, speaking to Solas quietly.  As much as the Tevinter mage wished to not be seen by the troops, his dashing smiles kept causing the women to swoon.

Cullen passed by the gathered group without being seen, glancing quickly towards an open tent across from his.  A part of him wished to see Evie emerge, meaning it was not her by the waterfall, but he knew otherwise.  He ducked into his tent quickly to hide his guilty eyes again.

Someone had lit the oil lantern hanging from the middle rod inside as Cullen pulled the tent flap close.  There was only one bedroll, meaning he was not sharing his tent with someone that night, thank the Maker.  He untied his mantle coat, tossing it on the bedroll.  He flicked the letter on top.  He unbuckled his pauldrons first, followed by his breastplate, and gauntlets.  The pauldrons jingled a little, reminding Cullen of Evie’s assessment regarding caring for his gear.  Each armor piece sat in a row opposite his bedroll so he could oil each after reading the letter.  Next, he unbuckled his belt from his waist, his broadsword’s scabbard weight unstrung the strap from his leather trousers’ waist loops.  He placed it in front of the other armored items.

Cullen left his greaves and boot on until he was about to go to sleep, if he even did that night.  Too many thoughts and emotions wrestled inside him.  He feared the nightmares would utilize his weakness and taint his new pleasant fantasies.  The man should be ashamed of himself for glazing at Evie with such lustful eyes, but a part of his emotions and thoughts felt so strongly that he could die happily if tomorrow never came.

The commander had not felt like this since his early templar years.

Maya Amell flashed in his mind eye.  Cullen pinched his nose as he attempted to chase the image away, pushing it back behind that mental barred door, but it was persistent.  His first infatuation, his first love, his first mistake.  Maya was supposed to be his constant reminder that he should never get involved with anyone, especially mages.

Cullen never noticed it until he was a templar recruit that he was very sensitive to magic sensations, particularly as mages pulled at the Fade.  Knight-Commander Greagoir stated it was the lyrium in his veins and to utilize the sensitivity to be vigilant and aware.  It never made sense because the first time he felt it was _before_ his first draught, around Maya Amell.  It only increased once he became a full templar and she was designated as one of his charges.  His oversaw several apprentices who were under Senior Enchanter Wynne’s direction.  Almost all of them were Creation mages, wishing to not harm anyone, most importantly Maya. 

Although they rarely directly spoke, Maya and Cullen exchanged smiles and nods constantly.  He knew when she was casting even if he was the other side of the Circle.  She was self-confident and aware of her magic, always asking him if may cast so not to surprise him.  Many apprentices and mages liked her, but she did not speak to them, preferring to read in solitude.  Maya did ‘speak’ to him though, reading her tomes allowed, usually poetry and literature.  She comment to ‘herself’ that she would like someone to read to her while she stood around all day.  Cullen did not like poetry, but occasionally ‘forgot’ to put away books on her desk containing old fairy tales he would read to his siblings.  They sounded heavenly in Maya’s voice.  It was an innocent love…that became twisted and tainted.  The serenity ripped through his soul.

Yet, Cullen realized Evie was having that same effect on him.  He had been fighting it for two months now.  The first day they met by the lake, the night Mother Giselle was stabbed, and all moments in between her presence he gave him a sense of peace and comfort.  His withdraw symptoms waned and his migraines all but disappeared after speaking with the mage.  He laughed more in her company than he had in all those years in Kirkwall.

Evie was sarcastic, yet conscious on how her wit was received.  Evie was short-tempered, but motivated, using that temper to drive home her argument to reach results.  Most of all, she was strong and stood with her head high, when all she wanted to do was hide and cry in fear.  Her essence, her magic called to him even when she was bashing his former life and actions.  Every time she needed to cry into his chest, she responded afterwards by pushing him away, not wanting to admit her weakness.  Evie could not hide her true self from him even with her yelling and jokes.  She hated he knew it too. 

Cullen was addicted to her, attracted to that broken person under all those layers.  He craved the fire in her eyes, the glimmer they give when she smiles, their shimmer when she cries.  Just like with Maya, the physical attraction came after the emotional and mental allurement.  All the other women he ever been with were strictly physical, nothing more, even though they wanted something deeper.  He kept that part of himself closed for many reasons, mostly because of Maya Amell.

 Maybe this was because of Cullen’s lyrium withdraw.  Maybe he could felt Evie’s magic and essence more strongly now, like Maya before he became a full templar.  Lyrium was no longer a substance that he could use to hide his inner demons and thoughts.  It no longer dulled his emotions so he was exposed and more receptive, even if he did not want to be.

“I am making excuses…” Cullen realized, although it may play a part.  “I know what is happening, and I do not think I can stop it.”  The tug of war in his chest seemed to resolve itself as he spoke the words.  His personal feelings won the battle, although the war was just beginning.

The commander’s attention returned to the letter laying on his coat.  He knew that writing and why it arrived there than waited in Haven.  Cullen had told Captain Rylen that any correspondence from Kirkwall should be sent with the first carrier to his location.  He did not want to risk it with a raven.  Evie was becoming too important to him, and his curiosity was overwhelming his thoughts.

Cullen kneeled and sat on his bed roll, snatching the folded parchment with his left hand and studied the address.  Knight-Commander Agatha must have found the mysterious man’s file because it was thicker than a quick reply.  He turned it over, breaking the wax seal with Kirkwall’s Gallows insignia.  He unfolded the parchment, noticing three sheets.  Agatha’s letter was on top:

_Commander Cullen,_

_Salutations and warm wishes from the Free Marches.  Winter must be nearly there in the south, but the city is still hot and stuffy, much like the people here.  Word has reached the local nobility about the Inquisition, particularly regarding your mage Herald of Andraste.  A breach in the sky and a mage considered blessed by the Maker’s Bride with a boon that can heal the Veil.  How do you end up in such situations?_

_The Gallows still exists, although most of the mages and templars are gone.  I and a small contingent remain to assist the City Guard, especially since there is no viscount.  Champion Hawke’s disappearance set the city back a few years.  Some knights under my command wish to go to Hasmal to unite with the neutral mages and templars.  I feel compelled to leave, but I cannot in good conscience abandoned this crumpled city.  I now understand why you struggled for a few weeks when Seeker Pentaghast came.  However, I think I can speak for all here that we are relieved you are at the forefront of what is happening following the Conclave, the Breach, and the rebellion.  Thedas needs your leadership now more than ever._

_Personal thoughts aside, please see the enclosed pages regarding the templar you requested.  These were the only records you had on the individual.  Apparently, he was not in the Gallows long, although his file was at the front of your personnel cabinet.  Please let me know if you have any questions or require any further inquiries._

_Sincerely,_

_Knight-Commander Agatha of Kirkwall’s Former Circle_

 Cullen hesitated removing the woman’s letter from the stack of parchment.  His memory struggled with remembering anything about the templar.  He kept appearing in his dreams for a few weeks now.  For sanity sake, he had to resolve this dilemma.  He pulled the parchment away, setting it to the side.  His amber eyes followed it as it rested on his mantle coat.  Yet, his eyes refused to gaze upon the personnel records.  Why did he pause so much when he struggled with anticipation for weeks? 

The commander physically moved his head, a curl fell against his forehead as he ran his hand through it.  His eyes focused on his old writing, straight, small, and ridged compared to Agatha’s.  His eyes flowed over the words, but did not read their meanings.  Cullen looked away, breathing deeply as he resolved the apprehension in his soul.  The amber irises fixated on the document:

  _Name:  Esme Ian Monroe nee Trevelyan_

_(Note:  Knight has requested noble born and surname be withheld to avoid familial connects within Chantry and the Order, as they have caused strife in the past.  Knight utilizes mother’s maiden surname.)_

_Birth:  32 Justinian, 9:19 Dragon, Ostwick, Free Marches_

_Rank:  Templar Knight, possible promotion to Templar-Corporal within the year_

_Recruited:  9:27 Dragon, Age 8 (Self recruited, not promised by family)_

_Training:  White Spire, Val Royeaux (Squire to Knights Divine)_

_Primary Weapons:  Spear and Greatsword_

_Permanent Assignment:  Kirkwall, Free Marches (Requested for transfer to Ostwick Circle, denied by Knight-Commander Stannard)_

_Commanding Officer:  Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford_

_Station:  Kirkwall Chantry under Grand Cleric Elthina_

_Status:  Deceased, since 9:37 Dragon_

_(Father, Bann Ian Trevelyan, notified after excavating site.  Remains burned beyond recognition, name etched into armor discovered beside grand cleric’s body.  Only surviving personal effects:  Mother’s embroidered handkerchief and small portrait labeled ‘Evie.’  Returned to family)_

The pages fell from his hands as Cullen stared forward.  His mouth gaped.  Sweat rolled down his temples.  His upper lip twitched as the memory flowed back to him all at once-

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen grimaced, crossing his arms over his templar breastplate.  “You should have sent word.”

The knight hung his head for a moment, his brown eyes searched for the best words to reply.  “An error, sir.  It will not happen again.”

Cullen picked up the man’s personnel file on his desk, flipping through his notes.  “It states here that you have quite the investigative mind.  You specialized in phylactery research and magical auras.  You also enjoy puzzles.”

The knight nodded, not saying a word.

“Why are you reporting to me?  We have a specialized apostate hunting group led by Ser Thrask.”  Cullen explained, seeing the man squirm a little when saying the word ‘hunting.’

“Although I excelled at all those tactics, sir, I prefer a post that does not require…” he paused as he once again selected the proper words. “…physical violence towards mages.  I will be a hunter, if you deem necessary, but I do not have the heart to properly act.  As a recruit, I participated in several retrievals of children that has scarred my conscience.”

Cullen nodded, seeing the knight struggling within about his potential assignment.  “I think I can speak for almost all templars that retrieving children and harrowings are the most difficult tasks we conduct, but they are essential to protect all of the Maker’s children.”

The knight-captain knew this man was not going to survive in Kirkwall.  He was not weak and physically strong.  However, the Gallows will destroy his mind.  Blood magic currently occurred everywhere, while the Champion claimed that templars were abusing their positions.  Cullen had suspicions, but his role was primarily training recruits, assigning templars to posts, and mediating between the mages, templars, and Hawke’s crew of misfits and apostates.  Every instant of proposed templar abuse stemmed from legitimate response of blood magic and runaway apostates.  Still, only a fool could say nothing bad was happening in the Gallows.  In the last six years, the situation in the Gallows had exponentially grown out of control.

Cullen felt compelled to shield this genuinely good man from some wrath.  Maybe after witnessing what was happening in Kirkwall, the knight might request to join Ser Thrask.  The two men would work well together. 

Cullen ran his gloved hands through his hair, trying to tame the curls and failing miserably.  “Until you have your bearings in Kirkwall, I will assign you to the Chantry.  You worked with the Knights Divine at the White Spire, so you are familiar with the clerics’ daily routines.  I will send word to Grand Cleric Elthina to expect your arrival.”

The knight smiled briefly, nodding.  His brown hair bounced on his head.  “Thank you, sir.”

“Like I said, this is until you have your bearings.  We will review your assignment in a year.  And Templar, send a notice if you are going to be late, hm?” Cullen eyed as the knight chuckled a few times.

“Of course, sir.”

“You are dismissed.” Cullen referenced the door as he picked up his quill.  He noted the knight’s station and orders in his personnel file.  A curl fell into Cullen’s vision again, sticking to his forehead, forcing the knight-captain to push it back into his messy blond hair.

The knight pivoted towards the door, but stopped before pulling the door open.  “If I can speak openly, sir?”  Cullen grunted, not looking up at the templar.  “Curly hair is a bitch, huh.”

Cullen’s amber eyes shot up at the knight, noticing first his smirk then it shifting to a face of panic in response to the knight-captain’s authoritative expression.  “Excuse me?”

The knight swallowed as he pulled at his brown strings of hair.  It was then Cullen actually studied the man.  He was about 5’11”, not overly muscular, but cut, surprising since he preferred the two-handed halberd that strapped to his back.  He was a true Free Marcher with lightly tanned skin, although he attempted to cover his freckled face by keeping a short jawline beard and goatee.  His eyes were striking brown, almost black in specific light.

“I too have natural curly hair.”  He commented, pulling at the long strains.  His hair was wavy and tamed.  Short on sides with a longer groups of hair on top.  Yet, Cullen saw no actual curls.

“It does not look like it.” Cullen remarked, trying to figure out where the knight was going with this observation.

“Thanks!”  The knight beamed happily.  “My sister’s a mage in Ostwick.  Loves discovering new potions, soaps, and whatnot.  She stumbled upon a hair tonic when she was trying to devise a cream to help burns.  It relaxes the hair.  My family sells it as a product now, although they never told her.”

Cullen smirked, shaking his head.  The knight did not realize it, but he just spilled why he _really_ did not want to be an apostate hunter.  Most templars with mage siblings struggled with bringing children to the Circles, as they most likely witness the horror as children.  Yet, the ones who were assigned to the task handled it better than other templars.

“Good to know…” Cullen chuckled a few times.  “Might need the name sometime.”

The knight pulled the doorknob to exit.  “I will make sure to send word.”  He nodded again, strolling out the door like he was given his birthday present early.

 

* * *

 

Acid rose Cullen’s throat as he held his left hand to his mouth.  His legs were bent, while resting his arms on top of his knees.  The personnel file had rolled out of his lap and onto the dirt floor, waving a little in the cold outside breeze.  He did not know how long he had been sitting there, staring into nothing and replaying that memory over and over again.

They could have been twins:  their auburn hair, cut skinny frames, the few freckles across their nose and cheekbones, all but the eyes.

_“They’re green…My eyes are green?  They were brown before the…”_

Evie’s eyes were probably that striking brown color before the Breach.

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen hissed, ramming his forehead into his clasped hands.  He knew her brother, commanded him for about a year before…

_"Those who have not [harmed me] are now dead.”_

The abomination Anders blew up the Chantry.  Her brother, Esme, was dead. 

_"The mage holds a great deal of guilt and fear that she caused the Conclave explosion.  I do not know why, but keep her confession regarding her magic to yourself.”_

Cassandra’s words after the first advisor meeting were never truer.  Of could the inferno mage struggled with the possibility.  A mage killed her brother by destroying a holy sanctuary!  Now, the Templar of Sacred Ashes was a crater, and Evie was blamed for the catastrophe.  Add that fact her family contains Chantry clerics and templars.  She was the only mage, surprising she stood for so long on her own.  The ridicule she must have heard when they told her Esme was dead.  The abuse they inflicted on her.

“All those scars…”  Cullen whispered, reflecting back on her battered body.  She probably did nothing to warrant the attacks.  She was lashed and thrown in confinement for just being a scorch mark in their perfect Andrastian bloodline.

The commander ran his hands through his hair, feelings the curls in the mess.  Her brother did send a note with the tonic’s name.  It was constantly sold out at the mage stalls in the Gallows, so Cullen had to make a deal with the vendors to keep a few aside.  He always had a collection in his chest just because he was never sure if it would disappear.  Yet, she poked his head that day on the boulder, looking curiously at his hair like she was going to rub her hands throughout it to mess it up, releasing the crazy curls.

She…Eve changed him in small nudges…into a man he really wanted to be.

“I killed Esme.”  Cullen admitted, pinching his nose.  “I was trying to protect him from Kirkwall, but in the end, he died when all of this bullshit began.  I assigned him there.  If I had sent him to Thrask…”

No, Esme would have been dead then too.  Thrask died a month or so before the Chantry explosion, when some rogue templars and mages abducted Hawke’s brother Carver, another templar under the knight-captain’s commander.  They were trying to force Veronica Hawke to support a coup against Meredith, but the apostate Grace just wanted revenged and killed the good knight, resulting in a massacre.[1]  Just another occurrence that Cullen dismissed for blood magic and templars turning on their duty.

The Champion was right about everything in Kirkwall, though.  Cullen figured it out too late, almost killing Hawke, her misfits, and destroying Kirkwall.  If he had just woken up from his illusion maybe…

“Esme would be alive.” He sighed.  “Maybe Evie would not be so mistrusting and scared.  Maybe she would like me again…”

The war in his chest escalated as the man realized the war inside himself was far from over.  The battle won just a bell ago felt worse than the conflict had ever been.  His sour behavior was unwarranted ever since she chastised his character.  He deserved all of her criticism.  He was a failure, a broken mess.  The commander failed her before he entered in her service.  He was responsible for her pain and suffering.

What was Cullen going to do?  Tell her?  No, Evie already knew.  She must, especially since Val Royeaux.  Ser Hugh stated she spent most of time in Haven reading _Tale of the Champion_.  Cullen hated that damn book, although he only read the passages he was included, partly to satisfy his curiosity and to see how much the dwarf made up.  In the sections containing him, Cullen wished he could call the dwarf’s bluff.  Evie read his remarks, his curses towards mages.  It was a long time ago, a broken man whose hatred and fear was being fueled by Meredith.  Would Evie even believe him?

No, not since learning Cullen ordered her brother’s death.

Maya Amell returned to his swimming mind.  He failed her too.  He learned too late what they had done.  First Enchanter Irving tricked her, saying what she did for the Circle was a ‘service.’  Cullen could not save her.  His first regretting mistake to the woman he loved.

“…I have done it again.”  His husky voice was rough and dead.  “And yet, I am still falling for her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reference to Dragon Age II’s Act 3 Quest “Best Served Cold.”


	15. Time Warped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Game" by Ayumi Hamasaki
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.
> 
> Question for Everyone: Now that you know Evie hears a symphony in the Fade, which instrument would each Inner Circle person be? (Except Varric, of course) I have some ideas for the Fade-Touched individuals, but I need some input please!

The journey back to Haven was only getting longer.  What would take Evie’s team two days was becoming four as a group of thirty Inquisition members and about forty-some horses ventured across southern Ferelden.  Master Dennet’s horse wrestled with the Inquisition troops, especially those who were not as familiar in horseback riding.  Iron Bull almost broke a horse’s back because of his size and weight, forcing the Qunari to walk.  The first day was spent corralling the mounts out of the Hinterlands. 

A good number of refugees from Redcliffe Village, including the Tranquil from the mage rebellion joined the group, all fleeing from the Tevinter cultists.  Many troops were unnerved by the stolid and emotionless mages unnerved many Inquisition troops.  Many non-Circle people never met those men and women whose Fade connections were ripped from their being.  Evie requested Corporal Vale to have any former templars under their command direct the helpless Tranquil. 

Avvar from the Frostback Basin travelled north and terrorized Inquisitions routes in southern Ferelden.  Some tribesmen attempted to ambush the caravan heading back to Haven.  Luckily, Leliana’s forward scouts took out the war band before they reach the mountain passage.  Just another matter that Evie had to scream about at the War Table, specifically to the commander. 

There was a large ‘discussion’ when Dorian Pavus, the Tevinter mage who was betraying his mentor, joined the group the second night at camp.  Evie saw him when she returned from her bath the day before in their Hinterland’s camp.  He wished to escape the region before Magister Alexius Gereon discovered him.  Evie game him a horse, routing a separate path out of the Hinterlands to the Frostback Mountains.  She advised she wanted his input on the Venatori and invited him to join their group once near Haven.

Cassandra and Cullen both disagreed with Dorian’s presence, stating multiple security breaches and his questionable loyalty.  A shouting match erupted between Evie and the two warriors over intelligence and loyalty.  Dorian was their only source in understanding time rifts.  The mage questioned the man’s underlining intentions, but stated the warriors would do the same if a templar deflected from Lord Seeker Lucius Corin.  Evie stated she was the one at most risk, especially since the time rifts inflicted pain her more than the others.  The distorting magic forced the mark to react in a hostile manner.  She needed to know what magical research Dorian knew to properly combat the time fluctuations.  His research may potentially explain the Breach and her mark.  It did not end well with Evie giving the Tevinter mage her tent and finding a tall tree away from the caravan to sleep.

On the third day, the caravan was too far away to reach Haven before nightfall, but the group would arrive mid-morning the next day.  Evie sent a raven ahead, warning Josephine and Leliana that she was calling a final advisors meeting over supporting the mages or templars.  They had dallied too long and their potential alliances looked elsewhere for support.  Evie had her vote, but was determined to make Cassandra and Cullen see reason.  However, she had to make sure all her facts were correct.  Dorian was essential in her debate.

The sun started to descend to the west, blinding the group every time they crested a ridge.  Evie had gathered all the mages in her party for an academic conversation.  Not her ideal debating group, but still useful:  a loyalist who cherished the Chantry’s laws on proper use of magic, an elven apostate who was self-taught and utilized spirits in the Fade for guidance, a Tevinter necromancer who became the liberal voice of the conversation, and she, a moderate would needed convincing.  Evie was open to new magical disciplines, but was wary on a person’s magical aims, yet she disagreed with the Chantry’s restrictions on research.

“Manipulating time itself?  Many have attempted over the ages, but never once succeeded.” Vivienne cooed as held her head high on her Orlesian Courser.  Evie could not tell the difference between the horse and the Orlesian bitch.

“That’s what happens when your Chantry restricts education.”  Dorian sang back from Evie’s right, his Imperial Warmblood nudging forward, responding to his master’s touch.  Master Dennet said he had the mare for a few years, trying to breed it, but failed because it preferred other females. 

Evie was penned between the two mages, feeling the tension building.  If a mage battle did occur, Evie was betting on Dorian on just looks alone.  Varric already marked his betting book for fifty silvers.

“It is better than sacrificing orphans to make a cow fly…”  The first enchanter hissed, her nose wrinkling a little.

“One flew over Minrathous, yes, but it did not have wings…”  Dorian snorted unamused by the mage’s jab.

“My exploration of the Fade has not come across any spirits that have encountered time phenomena, but the theory is sound.”  Solas commented from Dorian’s right.  “It requires a great deal of power.”

“Like the same power that opened the Breach, perhaps?” Evie proposed.  “It would explain why the rifts variated and why it worked now and not during their research timeframe.  How long have you been separated from your mentor?”

“Over a year.” Dorian sighed, his moustache twitching a little as his eyes diverted away.  “We had differing…opinions on how to proceed.  He became obsessed.  He approached me a few months ago to join the Venatori.  I told him he was insane, and we have not spoken since.”

“So, he has had a year to develop and execute this magic.” Evie concluded, rubbing her chin as she thought about the intelligence she was gathering.  “That is a short amount of time, but a driven man with a cult’s resources could find a way.”

“Whatever his reasoning, I hope you agree to assist the mages, Evelyn.”  Solas pleaded, his elven eyes burrowing into Evie’s mind.  “We cannot leave them to such a fate.  They should have their liberty than become enslaved to the cultists.”

“Let them go and turn to the templars.”  Vivienne interjected.  “Fiona has chosen their fate, and you should leave them be.  We should have retired her from her post a long time ago and let her go garden or something.”

“It is true that Fiona’s decision was extremely moronic.” Evie rolled her eyes.  “But, I don’t think dispelling the Breach will work.  There are multiple reasons why mages can cross the Veil over normal people.  Dispelling the hole might make the situation worse.”

“Agreed.” Solas concurred.  “The Veil is not fragile, but it’s a magical vibration that repels the Fade.  If we dispel the magic, we are essentially breaking the barrier further.”

“Yet places which has seen extensive death thins the Veil, too.”  Evie reminded the scholars.  “Furthermore, blood magic actually tears the barrier as the demon crosses.  I have been thinking about the Breach.  Thousands died on that mountain…and if someone used blood magic…”  Her words drifted away as she remembered seeing her mentor, Lydia, sacrificed during her Circle’s collapse.

“Blood mage _is_ powerful, but what you are suggesting is that everyone was sacrificed to create the Breach.  If not blood magic, so many spirits and demons cannot create a hole by pressing from the other side and create tears throughout Thedas.” Solas analyzed, his voice rough as he stood by his point.  “I have seen such thin places in the Fade, and many more people died in those situations than at the Conclave.”[1]

“If you truly wish to use magic than the templars, utilize the loyalist mages.”  Vivienne suggested, beaming happily.  “It would be easy to bring everyone together.  We do not need the Libertarians.”

Evie sneered.  “There is only about fifty Loyalist throughout Thedas.  Even if we could gather them and the non-fighting Aequitarians together, I predict that will not be enough to close the Breach.  The willpower needed to just close the hole the first time was overwhelming.  I might not survive the next attempt without enough power.”

“Then it is clear what you must do.”  Solas resolved, noticing that the leaders at the front of the caravan slowing as they reached an open valley in the mountain range.

“Also, a crazy Tevinter cult has taken over one of the most important arlings of Ferelden and enslaved southern Thedas’ mages, including tranquil, children, and elderly.  They will use them like they are just a piece of parchment, useful until they need kindling.  They possess an unstable magic that could destroy Thedas, past, present, and future.  Alexius does not care about the consequences, only that he can do it.” Dorian deduced, following the elf towards the clearing.  “Can’t allow us ‘magisters’ running wild through the barbaric countryside.”

“Daring,” Vivienne purred towards Evie.  “I know you and I do not see eye-to-eye on multiple matters, but we have both lived in the Circles.  We both know that magic was created to serve man, not rule over him.  If you choose the Libertarians, you place all of Thedas in danger, including unleashing demons and possessed individuals so close to the Breach.  I know your conscience directs you to support the templars at your meeting, especially how you dote on our commander.”

Evie threw her a look, her bright green eyes burning at the Iron Ass.  “I do not favor Knight-Commander Rutherford, Madam de Fer.  The man is one reason why we are in this fucking mess!”

“Such passion…”  Vivienne’s lips curled upwards.  “You _do_ prefer knights after all…”

Evie’s mouth gaped as the enchantress galloped away, laughing deeply in her chest.  Before Evie could respond, Madam du Fuck was out of range of both her tongue and fireballs.  The inferno mage squeezed her eyes shut as she stopped her horse Griffon and gripped the saddle horn to keep from falling off.  Her head swam as multiple voices screamed throughout her mind, none of the words were clear.  She wanted to throw up.  Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled her suede coat over her vest, hugging herself over her breasts and sensitive body.  Her back ached and her legs felt like they were torn in two.

“Fucking bitch…you fucking cunt bitch…”

 

* * *

 

It took Evie two bells to settle down.  She mushed Griffon into a full gallop up the path away from the growing encampment until she was near a mountain top.  Evie dismounted and cleared a small cave of every nug she could find.  Luckily, there were no giant spiders and bears.  She did not want huge battle, just something to burn to the crisp.  Every nug she set aflame was Madam de Flirt’s face or who she represented, casting spell after spell, draining her mana and the sparking mark until she was exhausted.

After depleting her mana, Evie sat on a cliff and sobbed uncontrollably.  The tears and screams poured like water out of her body as she hugged herself closely.  She was not naked, but she felt the lashes against her and the peeled skin on her legs and arms.  Evie just had the worst panic attack since leaving the Circle.  Just a small sentence whispered by someone who must know what happened.

Evie wished for Cullen’s tough arms, his lavender, sage, and campfire scent.

The urge caused Evie to puke over the cliff into an eagle nest below her feet.  No, the mage could never confide in that man again.  Daggers punched constantly into her heart every time she saw the man across the camp or heard his husky rough voice.  Evie’s thoughts suggested making him chuckle, craving the sound and seeing his scar twitch with his smirks.  Maker, she wanted to mess up his hair, curious about how it truly looked.

No, Evie must distance herself from Cullen Rutherford because her sanity and life depended on it.  She realized that in Val Royeaux-

 

* * *

 

Evie mumbled against the table.  “Varric, can you wait by the front door for me?  We have to head back in a few minutes, but…I need to-“

“-No worries, Monkey.” Varric sang, patting her back.  I will be right outside the entrance, reviewing the alley so we can make are great escape back to the Summer Bazaar.”

“Thank you.”

Phillian nodded his chin towards the rogue.  “Dwarf, I am relying on you to keep my Phoenix safe.”

Varric shook the old bard’s hand before turning away from the table.  “We are all good.  Keep the weeds to a minimum though.  You look like you should be surrounded with Dalish keepers seeing sounds.”

“It’s for my glaucoma, you half-stack pile of shit.” Philliam hissed, relighting his cigarillo.  “Besides, do not speak badly about my dealers.  One of them used to hang out with you before Kirkwall exploded.”

“Grand-Uncle, _please_.” Evie gripping her hooded head tightly.

Varric finally followed Evie’s urges and left the table, waving as he strolled out of the pub.

On any other day, Evie would have be joyful.  She finally met her pen pal, her only friend while she was in the Circle.  He was exactly as she pictured him.  Grand-Uncle Philliam was calm, collective, and had a _laissez-faire_ attitude.  He smoked and drank like a sailor.  He intimidated at the same time gained respected from people of all classes and species.  She wanted to be him.  She wanted his life.

Before Evie’s magic manifested, there were rumors she was to be trained by Philliam, become the next generation of Trevelyan bards.  Philliam was getting older, nearing eighty even though he acted like he was forty.  He had several apprentices throughout his life, but not blood relatives and no one her father trusted. 

Bann Trevelyan always planned decades in advance, and he had a plan for all four of his children.  The man never hid that he preferred Evie, declaring she was the most vital and promising of his offspring.  He did it on purpose to raise hostilities between the children so they could become attune to mind games and better fighters against their adversaries.  When Evie set fire to the gazebo, her father planned to send her to Philliam and hide her magic, changing her identity.  Instead, Evie accepted her fate and went to the Circle, breaking the bann’s heart.

Now, Philliam sat in front of here in an elven alienage pub where she could ask him any question, but only had one.  Evie finished _Tales of the Champions_ minutes before Varric knocked on her suite’s door to leave.  She never slept, absorbing the book and its chaotic words.  Each situation Hawke and her group witnessed and resolved only caused more problems and consequences.  To think, her baby brother saw all this, and she did nothing to help him.

Esme was innocent and kind as a child.  He avoided conflict, but he was not shy or craven.  He was a moderator, who prefer silence and puzzles than interacting with people.  He wanted to know how the world worked regarding both magic and mundane life.  He excelled in specific subjects and arts.  Despite his small frame, he was expert with two-handed weapons, wielding better than his trainers by the time he left for templar training.

Her brother struggled with social situations, not understanding social and behavior clues.  He took everyone’s words literally and did not know how to joke.  Sarcasm flew over his head.  He did not understand what happened the day she left for the Circle.  Evie cried softly and hugged him closely, trying to explain why she had to leave.   He held onto her and bit the templars, screaming he had fire in his hands too.[2]  Yet, the Chantry sent him to Kirkwall, the city-state of abuse and blood magic.  Esme would not know the magical abuses’ signs or if a templar beating a mage was not right.

Evie lifted her head, showing her bright green eyes to her grand-uncle for the first time.  Tears welled under her dark circles.  “Philliam, I need to know what happened to Esme…in Kirkwall.”

“Phoenix, do not do this to yourself.”  Philliam sighed, rubbing his neck.  It was the first time the man looked uncomfortable.  “He is gone, and there is nothing you can do.”

“How can everyone say that?!”  Evie yelled, quickly readjusting her voice’s volume when a few pub patrons glanced their direction.  “The whole estate never spoke his name.  His room was cleared of all his belongings and stored behind locked doors that only Father could access.  When I spoke his name, the whole room stared me down like I just called the Maker an archdemon.”

“The future head of the family died tragically.”  Philliam explained, closing his eyes slowly as he took another drag off his cigerello.  “The House was in chaos.  Your mother fell ill.  Your father’s plans were in shambles.  First Rian, then Esme…the male heirs were gone.  Your father stated that none of his female children could inherit the house.  Now only his daughters remain, specifically Patricia since you cannot inherit lands and titles.”

“Shows how much he believed in us girls…” Evie muttered, flicking some crumbles off the wooden table.

“There are reasons.  That is all I can say.” Philliam puffed as smoke streamed from his nose.

“Please, Grand-Uncle,” Evie whimpered, her head whimpering.  “Was he…was he killed by abominations?  Mages?  Fellow templars?”

“He was in the Chantry…” Philliam finally admitted, hanging his head.  “He was burned alive, laying beside the grand cleric.  There was nothing left.  We…we do not think he suffered.”

“So, just like Rian.  _He_ killed them both.  No wonder the templars lashed me for hours.”  Evie rubbed her left shoulder.  “They never told me why, just kept screaming I killed them all…forced me to admit it over and over again like a mantra of sin.”

“Your father punished the family members involved.  I am sorry that happened to you.”

Evie wiped away some tears streaming down her face.  “I dream every night of that Chantry and all the dead.  It has only gotten worse since the Temple of Sacred Ashes and everyone blamed me for killing the Divine…assassins always trying to kill me in my sleep or when I am alone.”

“All the more reason to train, to beat them at their own game, mentally and physically.” Philliam encouraged, leaning forward.  “Most of all, you need to release all that pain.  You must confide in someone.  I cannot be with you.  Your father barred me from joining your Inquisition.  You are surrounded with extraordinary people, my Phoenix.  Any one of them will protect and guide you.”

Evie closed her eyes, breathing deeply as her chest pinched; her heart combusting into itself like the Breach.  “I…I think there is someone…I can speak to.  He…he is like Rian.  I feel safe near him, but he changes dramatically in ways I cannot understand.  I am no better, but I have my reasons.  You know those reasons.”

“More the reason for you to tell him who you are, where you come from.” Philliam explained, urging the mage onward.  “You must trust, child.”

“I-I can’t.  Patricia will-“

“-She is not allowed.”

“It does not matter.  Everyone I trust dies!”

“Then, dammit do something about it!”  Philliam hollered, slamming his fist against the table.  “Open your heart and take in a little faith.  You cannot carry this alone anymore.  You are not in a Circle.  You are not on the estate.  You are a twenty-eight year old woman who can set ablaze cities and can heal the Veil.   They call you the Herald of Andraste.  You can change the world, Evelyn, but you cannot do this alone.”

Evie rolled her head, struggling with his demands.  He was right.  The mark response to her emotions and heart, but she cannot open the dam inside her soul, especially to her confidante, if she believed it was true.

“One last question…”

“Then you go and save Thedas.” Philliam called, pointing towards the door.  His pitch returned to his lazy lilts.

Evie did not want to say it.  If it was true, she already lost the war.  She could not let it hang over her.  There was just a small hope it was not him.  “Who…who was… _Maker, please!_ …who was Esme’s commanding officer?”

Philliam blinked a few times, trying to figure out why this question was the most difficult to mutter.  Evie tried to hide her face under her hood, but Philliam could see her apprehension as she labored in silence.  “I do not know his exact name…” Philliam dragged again from his cigerello.  It was almost gone.  “…he was not from Kirkwall or the Free Marches.  Trained elsewhere.  A bit of a fanatic, although a man of duty and order.  I think…a Fereldan?  Served beside Meredith before she went insane.  Scarred his lip while fighting the red lunatic.”

Evie gripped the table, keeping her sobs to herself.  She closed her eyes and whispered his name.  “Cullen Rutherford…?”  She froze, waiting for the man’s reply.

“I believe so.”

Evie grabbed Philliam’s cigerello and puffed several times until there was no herb left.  She waved to the bar wench with two fingers, shaking and stumbling out of her seat.  Philliam remained still, watching the mage break down as she grabbed the two shots out of the woman’s hand and downed them immediately, almost purging all over a drunk sailor.

As Evie began regaining her composure, pointed at the bard without his herb or liquor nearby.  “He’s paying.” Evie waved a little at her grand-uncle and stumbled towards the door.

 

* * *

 

“Esme served under Cullen…”  Evie whispered, the mountain winds battling at her face.  Her braids fell from their ties and slowly unwound.   Snow fell from above the cave entrance and dusted her shoulders and face. A few tears felt from her bright green eyes.  The mark did not spark, but ached in her hand as she absorbed what her words meant.

_"Mages cannot be treated like people.  They are not like you and me.  They are weapons.  They have the power to light a city on fire in a fit of pique.” **[3]**_

“Esme heard that.  He probably thought of me burning down…” Evie leaned her heart back, gasping for air as the ache in chest burst into an emotional explosion.

_"Be mindful of your magic.”_

Cullen never had a problem with her casting until that night.  His inner templar became evident, demanding and controlling her after he silenced her.  What did he do while she was unconscious?

Evie squeezed her shoulders together covering her body.  Everything was ruined.  She could not tell anyone.  She could not let anyone in.  The one person she felt the safest and the most peaceful around was no longer an option.  Evie wished Cullen climbed up the path and sit down beside her and hold her as wept tears of pain and suffering.  He caused this pain, he and his Order.  Templars controlled her life, childhood to adulthood. Templars placed her on a leash.  Templars disfigured her body.  Templars led Rian and Esme to their deaths.  Templars took away who she was and left this mess.

Evie wanted _her_ templar more than ever now.  His bear mantle coat around her shoulders, to hear his squeaky pauldrons, and his amber eyes staring down at her with such happy content.

“I have to let you go…”  She whispered into the mountain winds as her hair flew free.  “I must let you go…because I do not think I can ever forgive you…to let you in.”

The mage unbuckled her staff from her back, staring at the amber focus crystal humming in the middle of the enchanter metal staff head.  Evie found it on a Venatori mage on the Storm Coast.  She could not stop staring it as it glimmered in light like his eyes, particularly her flaming palms.  It sang like her violin the Fade, echoing and strengthening the melody over all the noise.  He did not feel so far away.  He was bringing her balance and meaning.

Evie lifted the ironbark staff over the cliff edge.  It dangled at eye level in her outstretch hand between her index finger and thumb.  “…goodbye.”  Her fingers released the staff, falling down the mountain side, smashing to pieces against the rocks to be nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] See Dragon Age Wiki for more about the Fade and magical theory
> 
> [2] I am suggesting Esme had a mild form of Asperger’s syndrome like me. :)
> 
> [3] Cullen says that horrible quote to Hawke in Dragon Age II, during the mission “Enemies Among Us.”


	16. A Fly on the War Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: There will not be a chapter posted tomorrow. Too much going on IRL to keep up with everything.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Orchestra" by The Servant
> 
> This is another favorite chapter. It utilizes a different method of point-of-view. I wonder who it is? ;)
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

The fly had been with the group since the Hinterlands.  He perched himself on top of one of the horses, unseen and forgotten by anyone who neared.  His presence disturbed the mounts, causing the troops to corral them together with ropes and riders to control the herd.  The fly attempted to help, but finally understood he was the cause.

Emotions were high around the Candle’s group.  Many party members argued and disagreed with one another and with her.  The fly listened to their concerns, their voices, knowing they all needed help, but he could not right now.  There was something worse occurring that he could not handle alone.  He needed the Candle to stop it or at least direct her.

When the fly reached the village, he followed the most vocal people there.  They appeared be the ones who could actually help and guide others to stop the coming chaos.  The emotions between the five individuals were the strongest, ranging to positive and negative opinions towards the Candle.  Each of them had crossed her path in the past, carrying or participating in her suffering in one form or another.  No one spoke about these emotions, allowing them to build until they escalated into yelling.

The fly noticed it was all coming to ahead, following a tall blond man into a large stone building.  He sang like the Fade, although his sound was dimmer than others like him that the fly encountered before.  His Chantry voice was strained from years of torment that controlled his dreams.  Yet, that voice and its duty was what he always knew.  It was familiar, providing a sense of safety.

Once inside the large building, the fly felt the second person’s emotions.  She was not with the group from the Hinterlands, but they spoke about her, directing her as they handled field operations.  Her opinions had changed since they all met last, wondering how the group would respond.  She received some good news, but was apprehensive of how the Candle would respond.  The Candle acted cordial towards the woman, but she felt that the Candle did not like her.  She did not know why.  Seeing the tall blond man in the building’s hallway, she followed, gathering her writing board and numerous letters from contacts throughout Orlais.  It was now or never.  Her diplomatic skills would be challenged now, and she was willing to defend her new position.

The fly rested on top of a large map covering the long rectangular table in the back room.  The fly was mindful of the markers.  Hay covered the floor from all the foot traffic since the mounts arrived in Haven.  Yes, sitting here he could listen to everyone, their different sounds echoing with their emotions and thoughts.  He could help here out of sight.

Suddenly, a booming sound echoed throughout the Fade as the third voice entered the building.  Despite the individual being on the nave’s other side, her emotions and thoughts blared throughout the area.  Her voice was loud and demanding as her blessed form followed forward in the Fade.  Her opinion too had shifted.  She witnessed cruelty and enslavement, while the other side chose to go into exile.  It all came down to fear versus pride.  She wondered how many demons pressed the Fade to feed on either side.  Yet, they could only truly save one from their fates and themselves.  She could not follow her former leader, leaving the Seekers of Truth because she disagreed with abandoning the Chantry.  Now, he led another righteous order away from the holy institution.   The other group was under the control of a very dangerous foreign power.  She could not ignore the threats.

The woman entered the room, nodding to the first two people who had already taken their positions.  No words were spoken, but the fly heard streams of thoughts and feelings that he could barely follow.

_Does Cassandra still agree with me?_

_The Orlesian nobles are our greatest ally in this._

_Cultists control the mages!_

The fly’s attention shifted as a fourth voice entering the holy building.  He only noticed because she shares his bodily skills.  He too once thought death was the only solution.  She accepted that fact as mantra, believing she used it now was for divine purposes, not for personal gains.  She just sent an agent to eliminate a traitor in her intelligence group.  No one betrays her and the Inquisition.  She kept the Divine alive for years, her great friend and mentor.  Now, she was dead and the world was in chaos.  She will find those responsible, and the Inquisition will bring order through blood and sacrifice.

The fourth voice continued down the Chantry nave followed by several dozen spirits, who have yet to cross the Veil.  She took their lives.  She does not sense them for she do not recognize their deaths as sin.  She did what must have been done, just like now.  She will argue for saving the mages.  A foreign power controlled the arling she helped save ten years ago during the Blight.  They drove the arl and the Fereldan forces out of the castle.  As soon as she heard about the situation, she sent a crow to the king, wishing for information and how the Inquisition may assist.  It was imperative they intervene for those who are now free from their towers and be allowed to live normal lives.

The blond man was first to speak as the rogue entered.  “Leliana, I needed to your opinion on…“

The fly’s eyes rose from under his brim hat, his mouth gapping as he witness her candlelight in the Fade.  It danced.  It sang as the bow crossed the strings with the most beautiful melody.  He struggled the last few months trying to find her.  The symphony in her hand echoed and blared over her music, but it seemed like the orchestra was finding harmony with her solo violin. 

Yet, her light was dim, almost blown out as she walked down the nave towards the backroom.  At times, it would flare with anticipation.  She carried several notebooks and documents to the meeting.   A sack hung off one arm with a heavy weight bobbling at the bottom.  The fly felt a great deal of magic and suffering from the object.  She was prepared for a battle, a match of wit and academic discussion.  A decision was coming out of this meeting if it meant her leaving the Inquisition.  Suddenly, as she reached the door and looked inside, her candlelight grew small and struggled.

_Pain.  Daggers.  Maker!  Why him!?  Must not give up.  Must not give in!_

The Candle’s face morphed as she hid her expressions under her bangs, pausing for a moment, a few feet from the door.  She pretended to look for some notes in her hand.  Her outward emotions steadied, although the fly felt otherwise.  Her heart raced as she grasped her violin, and the flame awoke anew.

The blond man saw her first, gripping his hilt tightly as she entered.  _She needs help with those belongs.  Her hair is not in her braids.  It frames her gentle face.  Maker, I’m sorry.  I am so sorry._

The rogue spoke again as the Candle laid her notes and documents on the table, bumping the fly, but she did not notice.  However, her magic and the mark’s symphony pulled at him, alerting her to magical change in the room.

“You were saying something about…Cullen?”

Cullen, the blond man, could not look away.  His feelings spilling out of him so quickly the fly could not read them all.  “Hmm? Ah- Yes, Haven has limited space for our soldiers to train.  Perhaps we could set up something over here…”  The commander referenced a local map by the fly’s boot.

The rogue, Leliana, eyed him closely, her thoughts cleared.  _He having more difficulty hiding it now.  Something happened because his index finger is shaking and sweat is building on his brow._

“Everyone, I would like to get started.  We can discuss other matters once we all reach a decision.”  The Candle began, waving her hand to end the current discussion.

“Of course, Evelyn.” The second voice sang, holding her head high and preparing her quill above her parchment.

The Candled nodded as everyone’s attention turned to her.  Her flame stuttered a moment until her grand-uncle’s words reminded her she had power as a false messenger of Andraste.  “This meeting is to finalize who the Inquisition will support and request assistance from to seal the Breach.  This has been two months coming, and we are finally in a position to do something.  Idleness has become an action, and the situation has soured since the Conclave explosion and the Breach appeared. We cannot afford to wait any longer.”

The four other members agreed.

The Candle nodded.  “We can agree we have all been tense about this, so I thought it best that we have a proper debate.  State both sides’ positions and weigh the positive and negative attributes.  Please note that I will be the one at the center of this because the mark is what will seal the Breach.  I will scrutinize both sides heavily because I personally enjoy living.”

A few members giggled after the Candle smirked.  She noticed the man smirk and quickly morphed her face back to an academic stance.  “Let us begin with supporting the templars.  What is the situation from the Order and how would we handle recruiting them?”

The commander stepped forward, his chin high.  “The templars must help us close the Breach.  The Order was founded to fight magic!  We’re received word from a knight-recruit.  They gather at Therinfal Redoubt.”

The rogue interjected.  “We must first convince the Lord Seeker to bring the templars out of exile.”

The loud blaring person finally broke her silence.  “It has been vacant for decades.  Why go there?”

“Closer to the Hinterlands than Val Royeaux?  A defendable position if their hand is forced?”  The Candle suggested, tossing out ideas.  “As a military force, it makes sense.”

“Agreed, Herald.” The man acknowledged her theories.

The Candle winced, swallowing hard.  _I cannot listen to him.  I wish he made another sound than that husky_ voice.  “But there are other castles in the area that have not been worn through time.”

The ambassador joined the discussion.  “We must approach the Lord Seeker again to get anywhere.  We can ask then.”

“If he is willing to give a strategic plan.”  The Candle countered.  “As a commander, he will want to know what we are doing.  If we present a plan to seal the Breach, the templars may ally with us.”  _Or they won’t.  I know they won’t.  They stand only with each other, just like all my cousins._ Lyrium _Blood is thicker than water._

The blond man’s face was stolid as he held his persona, but his thoughts raced.  _Has Evie seen reason?  Is she agreeing?  After everything the Order has done to her?  To her body?_

The second voice, the Antivan ambassador, knew this was her moment to propose her position and strategy.  _Diplomacy will win as last!_   “First, we must prove ourselves a more attractive prospect.  If it’s status the Lord Seeker seeks, the Inquisition will approach him after allying with the noblest house of Orlais.”

The Candle grimaced, startling the Antivan.  _She cannot be serious!  Approach warriors with masked buffoons!?_   “Um, explain?”

The rogue smirked, noticing the Candle was not pleased.  Despite disagreeing with this plan, she respected her fellow advisor and friend, investigating her plan thoroughly.  “They’ll come with us to Therinfal and demand the templars help close the Breach.”

Both the Candle and the blond man threw each other a look; their thought aligned.  _You cannot be serious?!_

Cullen spoke for them.  “You believe that will work?”

 _I would have said, “You are drunk?!” but I guess that is more diplomatic for this discussion._   The Candle commented to herself, blinking a few times for how ridiculous this plan was.

“Even the Lord Seeker would find it difficult to ignore so many nobles on his doorstep.”  Cassandra mentioned, although she was laughing in the inside.

“Yes,” Leliana grinned, looking at each person.  She gave the air that she was supporting the proposal.  “Especially when led by the Herald of Andraste.”

 _Masker’s arse.  This shit again?_   The Candle rolled her eyes, then smirked suddenly wanting to hear a chuckle.  She batted her eyelashes, holding her hands daintily under her chin.  “Is it my good looks you need,” She falsely smiled, teeth and all.  “or my winning smile?”

 _No!_   The commander called in his mind as he held his diaphragm and facial muscles.  _You do not deserve to show any form of happiness towards her.  Hold you laughter._   His face never shifted.

The Candle waited, then let her hands fall from her face.  _Bastard!  He is wearing his templar face.  He cannot wait to throw me back in a tower._

Leliana replied, noticing the daggers Evie’s eyes threw the commander.  “Rumors that you were saved from the Fade by Andraste have grown legion among the templars.”

Josephine beamed, proud of Leliana and she’s propaganda assault.  “We’ve done our part to encourage them.”

Leliana followed.  “A herald with a few companions may be dismissed.  Easily set aside, just like in Val Royeaux.  That same herald returning with noble support with be reconsidered, as will the power of the Inquisition.”

The Candle sighed, rubbing her eyes.  The fly felt her pull towards the Fade as her temper rose.  “I’m sorry, but we just agreed to share that lie-“ Her eyes and body shifted towards Cassandra to her left. “-and it is okay if you have that opinion, but only to recruit for the Inquisition and support our cause.”

Josephine prepared to support her plan.  “And we are recruiting the templars, thus it is applicable.”

“But we are drawing on their faith.” Evie countered.  “A templar has a strong faith, which is why they are a very strong force.  However, they also take offense when their faith is used in an improper way.  I have been at enough family holiday parties where templars almost cut off my head for some blasphemous comment.  Apparently, you forgot what I said outside a few weeks ago.  Templars from my family, my Circle, and anyone standing out there knows my true feelings about the Chantry and their presentation of being Andrastian.  It sounds like the Lord Seeker will see my arrival as threat to the faithful, especially since it comes from a mage.”

Josephine winced, realizing now that the Candle was correct.  She looked to her fellow supporter to interject.

“With respect, after his appearance in Val Royeaux, hang what the Lord Seeker thinks.” Cullen’s gloved hand struck the air.

Josephine sighed.  _That is not the best thing to say, Commander…_   “We do not need the Lord Seeker.  We need his templars, with or without his approval.  Despite your comments, Herald, several Orlesian houses will petition the templars to help us stop the Breach.  Lord Abernache will approach you.  Although…sign _nothing_ he offers, but his gossip’s reliable.”

 _Orlesian houses, huh?_   The Candle’s bright green eyes silted at the ambassador, her flame flaring with anger.  “Which Orlesian houses?  What are their alliances within the empire?  Is their intention to gain favor with us?  The Grand Cathedral?  With which clerics?  Are they doing this so we can push us into their civil war?”

“They are Andrastian, and they see the Breach as a threat as much as we do.  Many mourn Divine Justinia and wish to see that her death and the death of thousands addressed.”  Josephine sang, although her mind raced.  _She knows the Game.  I trust many of these houses, worked with them in the past.  Alas, her eyes glow at me…?!_

 “By hanging me!”  Evie hissed, pointing to herself.  “Unless they flip flopped worse than the village.  I could not wander Val Royeaux last month without wondering how many assassins were about to strike.”

“I reviewed Josie’s list, and I do not see threats to you, Evie.”  Leliana stated.  “Although, it is true that Orlesian politics probably play a role in their support.”

The Candle’s flame was overpowering the fly.  She drew her willpower towards herself, anticipating she would start shouting soon.  However, she relied heavily on her debating and scholarly skills she learned in the Circle to control herself.  “So, to simplify:  we would approach the templars with a plan to seal the Breach utilizing Orlesian noble support to appeal to his pride.  He may or may not respond to these multiple voices that all potentially have their own agenda once the support is guaranteed.”

The room was quiet.  The fly noticed their hearts hanged in tension while their minds were blank.  A few moments past.

 _That was a horrible plan._   Cullen dreaded the whole idea.  It contained everything the Order had become, not their roots.  It appealed to nobles, not his favorite social class.  It potentially lied using the Herald’s title as a reason why to listen to the Inquisition.  The commander also knew Evie _hated_ the title, preferring being judged on her character and actions than by visions only a few people witnessed as she walked out of the Fade.  Cullen had not slept in a few days when he saw the light behind Evie at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  He was not sure what he saw, just that a physical person walking out of the Fade, a feat not done since the original darkspawn.  Lastly, the plan relied on a man who exiled his own order, exiled the templars, who hold up in a crumbling castle like he is anticipating an attack.  There were too many signs of ambush if they did send the Herald.  Yet, it was better than the mage rebellion, right?

“Let’s move on and evaluate the other side, the mages.”  The Candle calmed as her candlelight haloed and shined throughout the Fade.  The fly beamed hearing the violin sing its melody.

Cullen’s stubble chin rose with his aggression.  “We don’t have the manpower to take Redcliffe Castle!  It’s that simple.  Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go for the templars!”  _This is my area of knowledge.  I will leave politics and houses to Josephine, but I know when a fight cannot be won!_

Cassandra glared at the man, offended.  “Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister.  This cannot be allowed to stand.”  _No, we cannot let this malicious power stay in southern Thedas!_

Josephine’s behavior became firm, while her tone mimicked the commander’s.  “The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andrast by name.  It’s an obvious trap!”

 _And the yelling starts…_ Evie rubbed her eyes.  _I held my tongue and was proper throughout their whole stupid plan and now they are the aggressors.  It is the Circle all over again._   “Isn’t that kind of him?”  Evie sang sickly sweet towards the angered advisor.  “What does Alexius say about me?”

Cullen could not hide that quick curl around his scar just then.  Leliana smirked at the Herald’s sarcasm.  “He’s so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you _._ ”

Evie tossed her hands up in the air.  “Did he not get my fruit basket!?  I told you all he was missing home.”  Sarcasm dripped off every word.  Then the fly feel her flame again shift.  She eyed the two advisors who raised their voices.  “We cannot waste time fighting among ourselves.  Remember this is a debate.  Be respectful to all opinions.” 

Josephine opened her mouth and quickly closed it.  The Herald’s green eyes flicked at her in that moment, almost daring her to say anything.  The Antivan’s brown eyes flashed to the commander.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden.  It has repelled thousands of assaults.”  Cullen’s heart raced into his throat, meeting Evie’s glare.  His right hand flicked in his pocket.  First, he rubbed his luck gold coin, praying Evie see his reasoning. 

Cullen’s hand shifted and rolled an amber crystal he found on a walk when he had a nightmare the night before.  He spent the early morning hours buffing the scratches from the surface until it shined beautifully in the dawn light.  _This stone is like her.  It is been beaten and tossed away like waste, but once you hold it to the light it glimmers and draw everyone in.  She draws me in._

The commander took a deep breath, laying his thoughts all on the table.  “Eve, if you go in there, you’ll die.”

 _Maker help me!_ Evie gripped the table as she found herself unable to break from his amber eyes.  _My chest.  I have to-_

The fly heard the same voices from the other three women.  _He used her shorten name.  He hasn’t done that before!_

Cullen felt all eyes on him as he cleared his throat, and gripped his broadsword’s hilt.  _I cannot believe I did that!  Focus, Commander!  You cannot do anything about that!  You are responsible for her sorrow!_   “A-and we’ll lose the only means we have to close these rifts!  I won’t allow it.” He cut the air with his hand as he leaned back.

 _And the templar is back.  You sonofabitch, you almost had me again!_   The fly felt all the anguish and pain flow out of the Candle as the light almost blew out.  The sole was but a whisper.  “So, the truth comes out… _Knight-Commander_ , I would like to remind you that I am person.  Yes, I have the mark that can close tears in the Veil, but I am also a mage.  I like to dance and enjoy music.  Reading and drinking are my favorite pass times.  I would _deeply_ appreciate it if you regard me as living, breathing person, not a _weapon_!  If it was not evident in the past, I have the shortest temper in the whole valley.  I assure you though, I will not quote, ‘light a city on fire in a fit of pique!’”

 _Shit!_   Cullen screamed in his mind.  _Cullen, you ass!  Of course, she would interpret your statement like that!_

Cassandra mentally hit her forehead.  _The man is daft!  You were nearly pouring yourself out on the table, confess something we all have been seeing for two months, and you do that!?  Romance is officially dead!_

“Understood, Herald.”  Cullen nodded, lowering his head.  He squeezed his eyes closed, pinching his nose with his right hand.

Evie sighed, relaxing from her outburst.  “Let’s continue…”

“If we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!”  Leliana simplified, turning towards the humbled commander.

Josephine grimaced, stepping forward.  “Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught!  An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war.”

Evie stared at the ambassador like she just ate a bug.  “And a huge group of major Orlesian houses trumping through Fereleden would not!?  They are an army themselves.”

Cassandra’s mouth gapped, still shocked by Cullen’s stupid.  “The magister-“

Cullen ran his hands through his hair, pulling at his neck.  “Has outplayed us.”

The fly felt the Fade pull again as the Candle turned to her documents and sack.  “Everyone, I ask you:  what do you want the history books to say about us?”  All four people studied the Herald.  There was no joking or anger in her eyes.  This was an academic asking a vital question.  “I have had this discussion with several people these last few months, including Cassandra.  Will they see us all as heretics who turned away from the Chantry in its darkest hour?  Barbarians and zealots who spread faith and order with a sword?  Or will be like the more recent heroes that saved a country from the Blight, but disappeared from her throne?  A Champion who steps down from the highest position when a city was struggling to rebuild following raids from Qunari, blood mages, and templar insanity?”

Evie pulled her sack open and reached in.  Each advisor watched in anticipation.  The fly watched in horror and beauty as a skull with a glowing gem appeared in her hands was sat on top of the map marker for Redcliffe.  “This is a Tranquil’s skull from an abandoned house in Redcliffe Village.  You remember that place, Cassandra?”

Cassandra nodded, wincing.  “There were…shelves of them lining all the walls.”

Evie griped the skull tightly.  “We found them throughout the Hinterlands on pikes…more on the Storm Coast.  T-the Venatori call these ‘oculara’.  They use them to search for strange shards.  If the cult is involved, we need to understand why.  They use Tranquil because they were once mages, but have no purpose in their new mage military.”  She set the skull down in the middle of the table.  The fly backed away to avoid another close interaction with the Candle.

“Most mages abandoned them when the Circles fell because they reminded…us…what we can become if we misbehave.  The brand is the most terrifying tool used to keep mages in line.  Yes, I know it had a purpose, but it was used too liberally…Sorry, I am drifting from my point.”  Evie waved her hand in the air, trying to refocus her thought.

“The Venatori slaughtered these people because they needed their skulls.  If they did not act quickly, the skull was useless, meaning a life lost for no reason except one less Tranquil around to feed.  That is why I offered the Tranquil a place in the Inquisition under Minaeve’s care and brought them to Haven.  It was only a matter of time before the cult killed them, a genocide of people because they were spiritually cut from the Fade…”

 The War Room was silent.  No one spoke as Evie studied each person’s face, none of them were looking at her or the skull.  The mage knew she needed to bring her point home.

“Templars are knights, they are prepared for battle.  It is engrained in them.  I see why they are an appealing ally.”  Evie’s bright green eyes locked on Cullen.  A curl dropped his hairstyle and fell against his forehead.  A part of the woman wanted to slip it back up for him, but she was disgusted with the former templar.  “The mage rebellion is disconnected, filled with people who cannot agree on anything.  Yet, it contains children and apprentices who were separated from their families and now the towers, the only homes they ever known.  The elderly lounge on benches because they do not have much strength, let alone the energy to cast a spell.  What is going to happen to all of them under Tevinter rule?  We all have heard stories from the Imperium, and that is the normal population.  These cultists are fanatics!  Will we assist people who cannot defend themselves in the real world or reach out to muscles and harden knights who are fully conscience of their actions?”

Cullen swallowed, leaning against the War Table with both hands.  “We cannot accept defeat now.  There must be a solution regarding Redcliffe Castle.”  Evie smiled at the commander as he glanced up.  _Maker’s breath, how I have missed that_.

Evie nodded at the man, then the other advisors as they all glanced around the room.  “The magister’s son, Felix, told me Alexius is part of this Venatori cult.  They are _obsessed_ with me.  I doubt they’ll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business.”

Leliana concurred.  “They will remain a threat, and a powerful one, unless we act.”

Evie’s mind immediately went to her childhood.  “Where is the arl?  I’m sure he’d help us get his castle back.”

Josephine smiled at the Herald.  “After he was displaced, Arl Teagn rode straight for Denerium to petition the crown for help.  I doubt he’ll want our assistance the Fereldan army lays siege to his castle.”

Evie grimaced.  “Well, the army is also battling those bands of Avvar coming from the south, the same group we met on the way back from the Hinterlands.  Leliana, can you send word to King Alistair regarding the situation?”

“I already have, Evie.”  Leliana lifted a note from her robe pocket.  “He is investigating the Avvar and the castle.  They will send word regarding their plans, depending on the capital’s decision.”

“Might come too late for the mages.”  Evie rubbed her chin.  “Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle.  Almost all noble families have tunnels for security reasons.  A sewer?  A water course?  Something?”

 The fly knew this was his moment.  He leaned towards the rogue, whispering the name _Jowan_.  Instantly, the spymaster reacted.  She lifted her hand to the group.  “Wait!  There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family.  We used it during the Blight to investigate the undead incursions coming from the castle.  It’s too narrow for our troops.  Alistair got stuck twice when his shield rubbed against the tight walls.  Astrid kept telling him to hold it at the side, but he was too distracted staring at her bum.  We made fun of him for a week, until he did the next silly thing.”

Cullen shook his head, leaning back again and chuckling.  “Why am I not surprised…”

The fly heard the Candle sing brightly to his left.  _That sound is addicting.  And his scar is showing!  That damn scar!  Why did not you not laugh before?!_

“We could send agents through the passage instead.” Leliana concluded, already thinking of several agents perfect for the assignment.

Cullen grimaced, the scar disappearing from Evie’s view.  “Too risky.  Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

Leliana eyed Evie, who was still pouting about the scar.  “That’s why we need a distraction.  Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?”

“Wait.”  Evie blinked a few times trying to rejoin the conversation.  “What?”

Cullen nodded, seeing the plan appear in his mind.  “Focus their attention on Trevelyan, while we take out the Tevinters.  It’s risky, but it could work.”

Evie finally caught on to the plan, grinning.  She stepped back twice, kicking the door with her boot heel.  Suddenly, a tan skinned, black haired dazzling man flew open the door and bowed to the group.  The fly could heard a flute whistling to life as the man pulled at his curled moustache.  “Fortunately, you’ll have help.”  The man glanced over his shoulder at the beaming Herald.  “Hello, sunshine.”

“Hi, lightning strike.”  Evie giggled, eying the man beside her.

“You know it…” the man flirted, his eye brow bouncing up and down.

Cullen immediately flinched and stepped backwards, watching the scene in front of him.  _The Tevinter mage!  He’s here!?  What was all that!?_

Josephine smirked, hiding behind her writing board.  _It seems the commander has competition…_

Cullen’s amber eyes focused on the messenger standing at the door.  His eyes turned to silts as he realized that it was the messenger he could never remember his name.  The man noticed the commander’s glare, speaking frantically, “T-this man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.”

Cullen’s glare shifted to the sassy man standing by the Herald.  His voice turned austere and rough.  “I’m sure he does…”

“Dorian of House Pavus, if we are to make introductions.”  The Tevinter mage nodded to the other women in the room.  Josephine blushed a little as Cassandra grunted in disgust.  “Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help.  So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”  He stepped to the side, touching arms with Evie as the both smiled at the group.

 _Over my dead body…_ Cullen thought.  His eyes met Evie’s, who seem to be begging him to agree.  She smiled gently, tilting her head to left.  Her bangs cupped her face.  _Maker’s breath…damn it._   The commander sighed, rubbing his neck.  “The plan puts you in the most danger.  We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.”  He watched the fire mage’s grin turned into a large smile.  “We can still go after the templars if you’d rather not play the bait.  It’s up to you.”

 _I see what you are doing there, Templar_.  Evie eyed the blond man across from her.  “My life has been threatened since the moment I walked out of the Fade, but I will not do this unless we are in agreement.  Support for the templars?”

Cullen put up his hand.  Josephine shook her head no.  The command dropped it, knowing he lost this battle. 

Evie beamed at the man, clapping.  “Support for the mages?”  Four women’s hands flew up into the air.  Cullen rolled his eyes, and lifted his hand half up.  “Then it is settled.  Now Commander, I know it is not ideal.  I do not want to completely abandon the Order.  Josephine, still send an Orlesian envoy of the most vocal houses encouraging those with reservations that they are more than welcome in the Inquisition.”

“Of course, Herald.”  Josephine immediately made some notes, racing out of the War Room to send messages.   

Evie pointed at a document in her pile, then glanced up at the blond man still grimacing from his defeat.  “Cullen, send the Bull’s Chargers afterwards to see what the remaining templars are doing.  Bull said they have done these types of missions in Orlais.  The knights are also being led astray, and I do not want to miss a chance to recruit any faithful knights.  If you know some contacts with the templars right now, reaching out to them.  Put in a good word?”

Cullen ran his hand through his blond hair as he realized the mage had this planned from the start.  “Well played, Eve…”  His husky voice was low so only Evie could hear it.  He circled around the table and walked out the door.

The mage and former templar never broke eye contact.  _Maker’s arse!  I want to hate that man!_   Evie paused as she saw Cassandra, Dorian, and Leliana watching closely.  The mage cleared her throat and returned to her list.  “Leliana, we will be prepare for Redcliffe Castle.  Take Varric with your team.  He might be a little wide for the tunnel, but he will be an excellent shot and morale booster.  Dorian, we will meet you at the Upper Lake encampment.  We will send a crow to notify the stationed soldiers.  We will see you in a few days.  Cassandra, I wish you to be part of my envoy.  Sera too.  You handled the Tevinters well when we met at the tavern, and Sera will be a wild card against those foreign mages.”

No one noticed as the fly walked out of the room with his big, brimmed hat.  He waved his hand to clear their memories of his presence.  He helped.  He finally helped.  However, there were still the dark ones.  He could keep an eye on them.  Notify the envoys and mercenaries they were sending if something happens.  Yes, yes!  Finally, he felt useful.  The fly glanced back into the room, seeing the Candle’s flame burning brightly as she spoke to everyone around her.  Her violin’s solo filled the Fade as he stopped to listen.  The melody called to the spirits and drew them close as the orchestra on her hand accompanied the solo, a piece for the ages.  He will play his part.  Maybe he will see his Candle again.


	17. Conflict of Interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Taking Over Me" by Evanescence
> 
> Hey Everybody! I made a music list of all the chapter songs on Spotify, if you're interest. (Sans "Bad Blood" because Taylor Swift is not on the music service.) Just search for "A Safe Haven" and you will see my screen name, thejeeperswife. I will each chapter's song every time I post. :)

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, realizing his action and immediately dropping his bare hand to his side.  He leaned against the War Room’s back wall, hanging his head as a migraine plagued his senses.  The room spun across him like a toy top.  The halos at his eyes’ edges distorted the walls.   He was so exhausted.  His breastplate and pauldrons made breathing difficult and felt ten times heavily than their actual weight.

The commander’s bloodshot eyes opened every so often, staring at the same thing and nothing else.  They laid there on the table by the Inquisition marker stating their next mission, Redcliffe Castle.  The glove’s fingers pointed at the Hinterlands, reminding the commander that should not be debilitated right now, but assisting the Herald’s party for their excursion into the wolf’s den.   The wall sconces candles flickered off the metal, highlighting the embossed design.  All his previous life, he knew his role and purpose.  He knew who he was and what he was supposed to do.  Now, it was so unclear.  Too much hung in the air like a fog that choked him.  The Flaming Sword of Mercy used to be such a proud sight, one that lifted his spirit and displayed a great honor.

That day the heraldry made Cullen want to purge.

Cullen could not find the strength or will to wear his gauntlets.  Every time he looked down at a requisition or gave orders, the embossment reflected back to him, causing another memory to flow back to the surface.  His mind was unrelenting.  It kept repopulating times he saw his face, heard his name throughout the barracks, and received notices with his signature.

Ser Esme Monroe—No—Trevelyan was haunting him like a ghost that had always been there in shadow, but now could not ignore.  The day before, during drills, he swore he told the knight to readjust his shield in his hand, calling out his name until his lieutenant corrected him on the recruit’s real name.

Nighttime was worse.  Cullen was becoming accustomed to some nightmares.  Some dreams shared specific patterns so he could anticipate.  The demons left him alone in those dreams, tiring of his chants and prayers.  However, they were enjoying the repressed memories, latching onto Esme Trevelyan’s form.  A misery demon enjoyed presenting Evie’s anguish when she was told the news, showing Cullen with the blood on his hands.  That same demon kept presenting Cullen forcing Esme to take children from their families.  Each child was a fire mage, clinging onto their mothers, just as Cullen witnessed too many times.

Luckily, desire demons kept their distance at the moment.  The former templar did not have the strength to repress his growing feelings for Evie.  He kept thinking about Esme dead by his own hand.  It forced his deeper, inner thoughts out of demons’ grasps.  Maybe that is why misery demons were prolific right now.

Cullen pinched his nose, praying under his breath to the Maker to lift this guilt from his soul.  Hundreds of people died in Kirkwall’s Chantry that day and thousands more perished throughout the city as everything fell apart.  Each day without lyrium, the stress from his actions and consequences folded on top of itself, building walls of affliction and regret.  He craved the music, the sweetness in each blue vial.  His body desired its effects, and his mind wished for numbness.

“Cullen?”

The commander lifted his head, witnessing Cassandra opening the door.  Leliana was close behind.  Both were dressed in their armor and cloaks for their journey.  He waved both women in, using his boot to push himself off the cold stone wall.

“Thank you for coming.”  His voice was rough and low as he staggered forward.

“Your note stated it was important.”  Leliana cooed, watching the man closely.  “When have you last slept?”

The spymaster did not directly know he had stopped lyrium, but he knew she was aware.  Everyone had behaviors, and she could tell a person’s daily routine after just a few days in their company.  His old routine synced with the ship’s crew during their voyage across the Waking Sea.  The withdrawal was not evident until he reached Ferelden.  Practices that were once second nature were now no longer required, leaving gaps of time with nothing to do.  That did not mean the other templars changed their routines.  What used to be a morning philter gathering now made him feel like an outsider.  When the physical symptoms first appeared, new routines felt like ripping bandages off septic wounds.  He craved for his former way of life just for some sort of normalcy.

One morning, when Cullen did not know what to do with himself and strained under the pain, he physically stumbled into Leliana making some tea in the Chantry kitchens.  She had a detail process from start to finish, sifting the herbs to pouring the tea into special cups and saucers.  She offered the man a cup.  Cullen never drank the stuff before, eying it strangely.  She explained it was lavender tea, good for calming nerves, especially after a trying day or night, in his case.  It also had medicinal properties.  That day the knight became a tea drinker, not because of the taste, but more for the routine and passing moments to sit and drink.  He forced himself to focus on something else than his dreams or symptoms, using the tea as a replacement for lyrium.

“That is why I called you both here.”  The former templar sighed, running his hands through his hair again.  He twitched when he caught himself again.  “Although this could’ve waited, I don’t think my sanity would’ve lasted until you returned.”

“What is it?”  Cassandra purred, crossing her arms over her chest.  Her eyes studied his shaking and inability to pull his shoulders back.  The seeker knew about his withdrawal and agreed to keep an eye on him to avoid disruption.

“As the spymaster and seeker present with the Herald continuously, I have some vital information that may impact the Inquisition, specifically my relationship with Evelyn Trevelyan.”  Cullen barely spoke her name, feeling stomach acid burn the back of his throat.

“Oh?” the seeker cooed, tilting her head.  “Has she told you something?  Is this regarding her magic?”

Cullen shook his head, regretting it immediately as the room blurred and made his nausea worse.  “No, we all agree she is a very mistrusting person.  Her mistrust towards me has only exponentially increased these last few weeks.”

“I was under the impression she confided in you more than any person here.”  Leliana commented, glancing at Cassandra.

“That was true for a while, but a few missteps on my part eroded that confidence.”  Cullen winced, thinking about his reaction to her magic by the lake.  “Since Val Royeaux, her apprehension has surly not gone amiss by you both.”

“Do you know why?”  Cassandra eyed the man closely.

Cullen nodded.  “I suspect I do.  If I am wrong, it is something both of you should be aware of anyway.  It explains her behavior since walking out of the Fade.  Her brother…”  Cullen pinched his nose, leaning against the table.  “Her brother, Esme, was a templar in Kirkwall.  He died in the Chantry explosion.”

The commander did not expect the response.

“So you finally found out.”

Both Cassandra and Cullen stared at Leliana, who stood like she said nothing.  “You knew?!” Cullen’s tone changed, resembling a mabari growling.

“Of course I knew.” Leliana boomed back, her Orlesian accent nipping at the end.  “I would not be in my role if I did not.”

“Leliana, that would have been important while I was in the field.”  Cassandra hissed, eying the woman.  “That explains Trevelyan’s attitude and actions since the Conclave.  She was mirroring herself to Anders.”

“I was under the impression you knew as well, Cassandra.” The rogue purred, tilting her head.  “You have interacted with the family longer than any of us.  You must have heard about the family’s hunt for the apostate.  They personally search for the apostate in service to the Chantry.  Since his escape from Kirkwall, many devout Andrastians, although most are anti-mage nobility, have spent time and resources hunting Anders.  The Trevelyans are most passionate of all.”

“Because of the Chantry explosion?”  Cullen quizzed, trying to understand the situation.

“The apostate is responsible for the family having no male heirs.  Those who were supposed to take Bann Ian Trevelyan’s place died by Anders’ hand.”  Leliana explained to her fellow advisors.  “The Trevelyans have always been led by a patriarch.  Alas, Evelyn and her older sister Patricia are the only surviving children within the whole main family.  There are male cousins, but they are too distant to be considered.  The rumors surrounding the family’s future are dire.  The whole house has become cutthroat over the fortune and its trading enterprise.  Since Evelyn is a mage, it means everything falls to her sister, but many family members are resisting, leading to in-fighting.”

“Well, that explains her behavior since the Conclave, but my role is more serious in her plight.”  Cullen sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding his hair completely.  “I was her brother’s commanding officer.  I stationed him at the Chantry.  I was trying to shield him from Meredith’s fanaticism.  He was only there a little over a year as everything was falling apart.  He was smart and good man.  Grand Cleric Elthrina spoke highly of him.  If Evie does not know about it yet, she will soon.  She seems to have her own sources, possibly through the family.  The day you arrived back from Val Royeaux, she knew who each one of us should contact, particularly the neutral templars and mages in the Free Marchers.  When I wrote to them, they said they were expecting my letter and were preparing to come to Ferelden.”

“It sounds like Bann Trevelyan is already maneuvering his influence despite openly dismissing the Inquisition and his daughter.”  Cassandra groaned.  “We have to nip this now before his lordship gains the high ground.”

“I think I know Evie’s source.” Leliana held her hand to her chin as she thought.  “His role in the family is to appear a black sheep, but secretly carries out the family wishes in Orlais.  I have cross his path several times, and I do not think he will mean us harm.  He acts primarily works on his own, unless it is an inner family situation.”

“It sounds like we are becoming pawns in a noble’s game of chess.” Cullen hissed, seeing each one of them as pieces in his favorite game.  “It still does not state what role the Herald plays.”

“I am certain she is a means to an end.”  Leliana estimated.

“In any case, I thought you should know.”  Cullen felt foolish about the whole matter.  He seemed to be the last to know.

“Well, it explains why she calls you Knight-Commander and names nugs after you.  Well, then kills the creatures afterwards with very powerful spells.”  Cassandra grinned as Cullen rolls his eyes.

“Go, before she starts doing the same to you two.”

 

* * *

 

The midday sun crossed the sky’s peak the next day when the scout approached Cullen.  The recruits and his officers finished their meals and were starting running drills around the lake.  Although in better condition than yesterday morning, the commander wished to remain near camp.  Josephine and he were in charge and main sources of contact for the Inquisition’s branches at the moment.  Many of Leliana’s seconds travelled with her to Redcliffe, so the former templar felt compelled to make himself as available as possible. 

The ambassador was organizing the final Orlesian envoys to seek out any faithful templars among Lord Seeker Lucius’ flock.  Cullen sent his persuasive letters last night, hoping his former brothers saw reason and traveled to Haven.  Many templars ventured to the settlement from other parts of southern Thedas, bringing charges who had not joined the mage rebellion.  However, the majority of the knight army were in Therinfal Redoubt.

Cullen hoped that it was enough.

“Commander Cullen?”

Cullen glanced over his shoulder, keeping his ear turned towards the recruits across the lake as they ran through a new layer of snow.  “Yes?”

The scout held out a letter, grimacing.  “A message, sir, for Sister Nightingale.  It is urgent and the carrier stated it could not wait for her return.”

Cullen took the letter, studying the envelope.  He twitched his fingers to turn it over.  His amber eyes immediately were drawn to the wax seal on the back.  “The King of Ferelden’s seal…”  He nodded to the scout.  “I will handle it.”

The scout saluted and returned to her duties, while Cullen fast walked back to his command tent, gripping the letter tightly.  It must be King Alistair’s response to Leliana’s inquest regarding Redcliffe.  He had yet to reply when they left yesterday morning. 

Little communication would reach the Herald’s contingent before their meeting with Magister Alexius Gereon tomorrow morning.  Leliana’s team would have broken from Evie’s party by now to diminish their numbers entering the Hinterlands.  Venatori forces were growing in the area as they sailed down Lake Calenhad from the Waking Sea.  Avvar were coming from the Frostback Basin, threating travelers and merchants.  News had reached him just that morning that an Inquisition’s scouting party went missing in Fallow Mire, where Avvar presence had increased exponentially.

Once Cullen was in the training compound, he broke the king’s seal, quickly unfolding the message:          

_L,  Arl Teagan and I are riding out of Denenium to meet a battalion of Fereldan forces and the arl’s men in the Southern Hills, near former Lothering.  Larger forces are on standby if we cannot persuade the Tevinter leaders and the rebel mages to leave by nightfall tomorrow.  No matter what the circumstances the Inquisition is negotiating with the mages, we will not hesitate to approach the region, village, and castle by midday tomorrow.  Depending on the situation, Ferelden and the Landsmeet will act accordingly.  Act swiftly, Nightingale.  –A_

Cullen’s military mind immediately created scenarios of what will happen in Redcliffe.  If the Herald’s envoy had not retook the castle by that day tomorrow, Ferelden force will move in and begin educing the region.  If Leliana’s team is delayed or unable to reach the Herald in time, the Herald and her party will be captured.  The Venatori will believe the action was provoked by the Inquisition and will retaliate.  The only person able to seal the Breach will be captured and most likely killed-

“No,” Cullen hissed, crunching the letter in his hand.  “She is a person, Cullen.  You made that mistake at the meeting.  E-” Yet, Cullen could not bring himself saying her name without reacting wrong.  A sharp pain struck him directly in the chest.  “T-the Herald will be captured and killed.”  The pinch was still present, but he was able to keep his mind focused.

Cullen step forward, pointing to a lieutenant addressing some recruits.  “Lieutenant, have Corporal Vale and a squad of veteran soldiers prepare to leave in one bell for the Hinterlands.  Send a messenger to Captain Rylen to meet me in the Chantry immediately!”

The commander already had a plan forming in his mind.  He knew where the king was meeting Fereldan forces and where they would be within the next day.  They will follow the Imperial Highway to old Lothering, then into the Hinterlands.  A small squad of Inquisition soldiers on horseback may intercept them in time before midday tomorrow.

Cullen reviewed who of E- the Herald’s party was still in Haven.  He wished the Iron Bull and his mercenary group had not left that morning for the templar stronghold.  They were specialized to work in small groups and infiltration, optional if the situation soured in Redcliffe.  The Herald recruited a Grey Warden in the Hinterlands, who was impressive with a sword and shield.  Solas was in camp, assisting the apothecary in treating the Tranquil and refugees.  He served the longest with the Herald in the Hinterlands.  Furthermore, his healing and magical abilities will be useful.  There was also Vivienne.  No, that would not be wise:  an Orlesian-leaning mage with the King of Ferelden and the Arl of Redcliffe was a diplomatic and military nightmare.

Cullen whistled to a runner passing him as marched through Haven’s gate.  “Alert the Grey Warden Blackwall and the Elven apostate Solas that they will be accompanying me to the Hinterlands within one bell.  There is a situation that requires to their assistance.  Send them to the Chantry when they are ready.”

Cullen ran his hands through his hair as his pace shifted into a jog.  Would the timing be right?  He wished one of the Herald’s rogues was there, but Sera was with the envoy party and Varric joined Leliana’s team.  Just then, he saw Charter speaking to another scout by the Herald’s old cabin.  She leaned on pole with her leg wrapped.  “Charter!  Your assistance is required in Redcliffe.”

Charter blinked.  “Sir, my leg’s broken following an Avvar engagement.  I’m here in Haven covering Sister Nightingale’s operations while she’s in the Hinterlands, or I would’ve been with her team.”

“A situation has arose that requires immediate response.”  Cullen huffed, his commander voice booming throughout the lower section of Haven.  “I require a rogue to accompany me.”

“Take Pellane.  Sister Nightingale and I have personally trained him.”  Charter referenced the scout beside her.  “He is a Fereldan who knows the area well.”

The tall scout straightened his back.  “Of course I will assist you, sir!”

Cullen patted his back, turning towards the Chantry path.  “Meet the squad at the stables in one bell.” Cullen gave Charter the king’s missive.  “Alert Leliana immediately regarding this.  I know she and the Herald are out of communication now, but send a crow anyway.  We have to attempt to alert them.  Now!”

“Yes, sir!” Both agents called, watching the man jog away.

The blond man’s adrenaline was pumping through his veins.  Any withdraw symptoms left from his body as his full focus was consumed to reach the Hinterlands in time.  Cullen ran past a group of Chantry sisters, using his pauldrons to push the front door open.

The commander sighed in relief when he past the first enchanter’s desk that she was not present.  He continued down the nave, opening Josephine’s office door open with a single motion.  Luckily, the ambassador was alone, eating a sandwich at her desk.

“Commander?”  The Antivan called confused.

“I must leave for the Hinterlands.  King Alistair is sending a force to retake the castle about the same time Leliana’s team will be springing into action.  I’m taking a squad of soldiers to intercept the forces.  Charter’s attempting to contact Leliana, but it might not reach her or the Herald in time.  They meet with the magister first thing in the morning.”

Josephine’s face informed the commander she realized the implications if no news arrives in time.  “Will you make it in time?”

Cullen ran his hand through his hair.  “I have to, if not, the Herald, Leliana, and the whole party will perish.  I am taking Solas, Blackwall, and one of Charter’s scouts, Pellane, with me.  I will send news once I make contact.”

As Cullen pivoted on his boot, seeing Captain Rylen race past the ambassador’s door, the ambassador called.  “Cullen, may the Maker guide you.”

Cullen nodded, walking out the door.  “May the Maker watch over Eve…”


	18. Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone, I will posting the next two chapters today then waiting until Monday to publish again. Writing is incredibly slow right now. It is hot and I have no AC, so all I am doing is sleeping. Please be patient. We're nearing the end of Part 1, and the second is turning out pretty awesome!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Time" by Hans Zimmer from the Movie "Inception"
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Cassandra’s senses burned as the three individuals were escorted across Redcliffe’s Castle Bridge from the village.  Her abilities alerted her to the multiple magic connections in the area.  Many southern mages gathered at the castle gate, waiting patiently for an audience with their new lords.  The seeker recognized more mages dressed in Tevinter armor and robes standing watch and ordering the indentured mages around like cattle ready for slaughter.  The foreigners stood on the castle ramparts and patrolled its perimeter.  There were more foreign mages in the region than the week before.  The Imperium’s invasion into the heart of Ferelden had already begun.

Two southern mages ushered the envoys towards the tall fortress built on top of an overlooking hill, a prime vantage point for watching ships enter and exit the bay.  The seeker recognized one mage to her left.  Only handful of servitude supporters seemed excited about their new prospects.  Earlier, Evie bickered specifically about Linnea, a former member of Ostwick’s Circle.  Apparently, the mage attempted to compete with the Herald in studies and research as apprentices.  The Herald did not remember her until after the envoy party left the tavern a week ago, complaining the woman spent more time sleeping with templars than actually casting magic.  Linnea barely passed her Harrowing, moments from bringing cut down by a former lover.  The Herald passed her exam in the second shortest time recorded in the Circle, only surpassed by her mentor, Lydia.

A cold chill crawled up Cassandra’s back as they passed under the castle’s inner gates, knowing they were truly on their own until Leliana’s ambush arrived in the grand hall.  She glanced left, noticing the elf rogue frigging with her fingers and glancing everywhere.  Evie admitted a small miscalculation in the plan.  The archer felt extremely uncomfortable around magic.  On the Storm Coast, Sera did not mind Evie’s casting, probably sensing the Herald was not a threat.  Cassandra huffed at the thought, reminding herself about Evie’s wild magic the first few weeks after the Conclave.  After a long conversation with Sera last night, the elf might be a liability than a positive wild card.  Evie just kept reminding the archer while walking to the village she has her jar of bees.  Cassandra watched as every so often as Sera tapped her waistband, grinning.  She must have been disturbing the bees and envisioning her craziness rampage against the enemy mages.

“Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste, to see Magister Alexius Gereon.”  Evie announced to the at the castle’s main front door attendant.

The seeker gave the Herald credit.  Recently, she conducted herself in the noblest manner.  During the meeting, she was diplomatic and a moderator between the two opposing advisory groups.  She resolved any grieves and kept her temper under control.  Cassandra only noticed the mark spark once when she abrasively put the commander back in her place, describing herself as a woman who deserved respect and not a weapon.

The seeker actually respected the mage.  Cassandra and Evie still disagreed on _multiple_ topics and methods, but appreciated that she took into account other’s concerns and addressed them accordingly, usually after her temper settled down.  Yes, the woman enjoyed being snippy and sarcastic, allowing her tongue and temper run away at times.  Yet, she was becoming more empowered during stressful moments than before.  Evie carried herself as a grounded mage who knows others may fear her curse, but she demonstrated it could be used for good.  She was merging a nobly-educated woman with an academic arcane scholar, who must be a beacon and save the world from chaos.  Despite Evie rejecting the Herald title, the seeker saw her divine providence brightening inside her every day.  Her inner flame gathered people who simply wished for peace and order.

Cassandra saw _the_ Herald of Andraste that day presenting herself to Alexius’ seneschal in the castle entryway.  Her back was straight, her head level, and her bright green eyes focused on the blond mage who walked down the main stairs.  She wore a new medium armor bear suede coat, knee and elbow high boots and gloves.  Her scarf was burgundy red as well as her coat sleeves.  Cassandra wondered why the Herald did not bring her fire staff, utilizing her older staff with an rough diamond focus crystal held by an enchanter staff head on a whitewood-rune rod.  The seeker knew she had a stronger staff before because every time she casted, her inferno was like a phlegethon, spraying flaming light on her adversaries.  She also enjoyed staring at the large amber focus stone while in the campfire.

Evie’s voice boomed in the entry way.  “Announce us.”

The blond southern mage glanced at Cassandra and Sera.  “The magister’s invitation for Mistress Trevelyan alone.  The rest will wait here.”  He turned to walk back upstairs, believing the matter settle.

“If they cannot enter, I will not go either.”  Evie’s voice intensified as the man threw her a look.  Her face lightened to a small cheeky smile.  “They have to accompany me.  You would not deprive me of the attachés, would you, sir?”

Cassandra knew that sickly sweet sound.  The last time the mage used it, Josephine was immediately put back into her place.  The tone was professionalism with a purposeful dig, daring someone to deny her.  The seneschal received the proper message, nodding towards the Herald.  His eyes turned into silts in defeat.

The three Inquisition membered followed the man closely.  The more hallways Cassandra passed, the more she noticed Fereldan flags and statues were removed and replaced with Tevinter and Venatori insignias.  The foreign power was planning to stay no matter what occurred during their meeting.

The blond southern mage nodded to his seated leader in the grand hall, before stepping to the side.  “My lord magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived.”

Cassandra kept her sneer to herself as much as possible as the Tevinter mage rose from the arl’s throne with his sickly son standing to his right.  The magister looked more akin to an Orlesian noble who preferred earth tone colors than pastel.  Every part of his armored robes was pointed and silver buttoned.  Evie was becoming proficient in comparing each leader they met to a type of fowl.  Lord Seeker Lucius Corin looked like an extra-large, uncooked quail because he had no neck in templar armor.  Magister Alexius Gereon was a rooster who had only been half plucked before roasted.  The points of his armor were burnt feathers and his large puffy trousers were feathered thighs.  She explained she imagined the men as nothing but birds to properly know how and when to ‘bake’ them when addressing the poultry.

 The magister waved in happiness.  “My friend!  It’s so good to see you again.”  His lip twitched when he noticed Cassandra and Sera, specifically the seeker as the shield maiden prepared to silence the man if need be.  “And your associates, of course.  I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is satisfactory to all parties.”

“Are we mages to have no voice in deciding out fate?”

The party followed the echoing voice to former Grand Enchanter Fiona, who emerged out of the shadows.  Her elven skin was pale as she stood hunched over.  He eyes stared intently at her new master with little regard.  Cassandra knew the elf’s history as an elven slave who became a Grey Warden.  Somehow, she was cured of the Blight and was forced to go back to the Circle when she could not be re-inducted.  She spend most of her life fighting enslavement and service.  Yet, she agreed to submit the mages to servitude to a foreign power just for some sense of security.  Perhaps First Enchanter de Fer was correct, and the woman was no longer the powerhouse she once was.  She forgot she met the Herald in Val Royeaux, although that Tevinter mage Altus Pavus explained that instance was time magic.

Alexius shrugged.  “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

Cassandra knew that glimmer in Evie’s eyes.  Her sassy side was bursting at the seams.  Cassandra prayed the Herald would hold her tongue.

“Of course she trusts you, Alexius.”  Evie grinned, tilting her head to the side.  “I’m sure lots of people put their lives in your hands.  You have one of those faces.”

Sera cackled a little.  Cassandra groaned.  Of course the mage could not contain her sarcasm.

The magister either barely noticed the Herald’s dripping mockery or he played into it.  “Yes, the Magisterium tells me that so often.”  He returned back to his stolen throne.

Evie nodded at Fiona.  “If the grand enchanter wants to be part of these talks, then I welcome her a guest of the Inquisition.”

Fiona smiled and bowed to Evie.  “Thank you.”

Alexius rolled his eyes.  “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them.  So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

The seeker felt Evie’s magic gather around her body, spinning with great force.  Her bright green eyes burned with fury and her voice soured.  “Don’t bother.  I know that you invited me here to kill me.  Personally, I’m much rather discuss your time magic.  The academic in me is dying to know how it works.”

Cassandra prepared herself for battle as Alexius’ face morphed a few times before smirking.  “If you believe all that, I marvel that you chose to come anyway.”

The magister’s son, Felix, stepped forward.  “She knows everything, Father.”

Alexius jumped to his feet, staring his son down.  “Felix, what have you done?”

Evie stepped forward, swinging her arms outward.  “You wanted me here.  _Why?_ ”

Alexius stuck the air with his hand.  “Do you know what you are?  You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don’t even understand—and think you’re in control?  You’re nothing but a mistake.”

Cassandra watched as Evie winced at his last statement, her magic dissipated a little from her body as her eyes looked stunned.  It took a moment, but she shook away the surprise and gathered her embers closer than before.  “If I’m a mistake, what exactly was the Breach supposed to accomplish!?  What do you know about the Divine’s death?!”

Alexius sneered at the mage as he gathered his own.  The whole grand hall started to swirl.  The seeker wished they had a company of templars with them as all the mages tugged at the Fade for strength.  “It was to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One, for this world!  You were unworthy even to stand in his presence!”

Felix stepped in front of his father as the man approached the Herald.  “Father, listen to yourself!  Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everything expects us to be.”

Evie beamed as the Tevinter mage Dorian entered from the right connecting hall.  For Cassandra, it signaled that Leliana’s team was inside of the castle, closing in.  The warrior tossed a look at the archer beside her.  Sera locked eyes with the seeker, her hand tapping the three buzzing jars on her waistband.

“Dorian.” Dorian’s arrival provoked a new surge of magic from the magister.  “I gave you a chance to be part of this.  You turned me down.  The Elder One has power you would not believe.  He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “Blah.  Blah.  ‘My cult is better than yours.’  Do you all have any new bright ideas?  That’s so stale now.”

Dorian shrugged, then nudged Evie’s arm.  “Well, you know, it’s a chance for the Imperium to really one-up the whole ‘starting the blight’ thing.”

“You would think they would give up and go home after that, but _no,_ of course not.”  Evie held her hands out at her sides, a motion she did before she casted her flames.  “Just tell me, is this elder ass the one who you serve?  The bastard who killed the Divine?”

Alexius did not take her dig well.  He stared into the Herald’s eyes with great intent.  “Soon, he will be a god.  He will make the world bow to mages once more.  We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

“He won’t be _my_ god, Alexius!”  Evie yelled, reaching behind her back for her staff.  Cassandra actually wished she had the stronger staff.  Things we quickly unravelling.  Where was Leliana!?

Fiona stepped forward, gathering her own magic with the Herald.  Her Fade pull aligned with spiritual and ice magic, reminding the seeker the grand enchanter was once one of the scariest Grey Warden battlemages.  “You can’t involve my people in this!”

Dorian’s electrical energy and a magic Cassandra had not felt since her childhood pulsed from the allied Tevinter mage.  The room was become an elemental duel of the ages.  “Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen!  Why would you support this?”

Felix forced his father to face him, his eyes pleading with the magister.  “Stop it, Father.  Give up the Venatori.  Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

Alexius shook his head, his voice worrisome and panicked.  “No!  It’s the only way, Felix.  He can save you!”

Evie threw Dorian a look puzzled as Felix responded, slightly stunned.  “Save me?”

Alexius eyes began to water as he frantically tried to convince his son.  “There _is_ a way.  The Elder One promised.  If I undo the mistake at the temple…”

Felix sighed, his shoulders sinking as his father’s actions made sense to him but no one else.  “I’m going to die.  You need to accept that.”

Alexius threw a fury of energy throughout the grand hall as he pointed at the Herald.  “Seize them, Venatori!  The Elder One demands this woman’s life!”

Evie casted a barrier over the six people standing against the magister, anticipating an attack, but felt no one approaching.  Sera giggled as streams of arrows pierced the armored guards’ robes and daggers silt their necks open.  Leliana stepped forward, tossing a Venatori body like a doll without a care.

The Herald relaxed, dropping the barriers over her party.  “Your men are dead, Alexius.  Stand down… _Now!_ ”

Alexius stumbled backwards, reaching for something under his armor.  “You…are a mistake!”  Casssandra felt a foreign magic surge similar to Evie’s mark as an amulet appeared in the magister’s hand, floating.  “You never should have existed!”

Suddenly, a burst of green energy exploded throughout the room as Dorian charged his electrical spell and tossed it at Alexius.  “NO!”

Cassandra flew backwards as green light filled the grand hall.  The seeker pulsed dispel and cleanse abilities into the air.  She leaned forward, glancing around the room in panic as everyone else seemed still in shock.  “Herald?”

No reply.

“Trevelyan?”

Where she once stood, dust and ash dissipated into the air.  “EVIE!?”

 

* * *

 

Evie felt all of her magical energy shift as she was flung face first into water.  Immediately, the mark in her hand sparked alive, forcing the mage to scream in horror is it burned and electrocuted her heart, lungs, and other internal organs.  She could not stop as she swallowed the liquid around her.  She reached outward, searching for the surface and felt stone. 

 _I’m drowning…again!?_   Suddenly, something pulled at her collar, pulling her upwards.  _Cullen?!  Please!_

Evie was flung back as she threw up the water she had accidently swallowed, coughing and wheezing as she panicked and searched for the former templar knight.  “…S-silence…” she coughed and purged again.  “…me!  Please!”

“Evelyn, I can’t-“

“Blood of the Elder One!”

“Where they come from?!”

Evie’s mark exploded to life again, this time arcing across the water towards the voices that said that man’s name.  Flashes of red and green blurred the world around the mages as she felt her mana pool drain.  After subsiding the burst, Evie fell to her knees, gripping her right wrist.  The mark calmed itself.

“Shit!  You obliterated them!”

Evie swayed as the Fade’s noise deafened her ears.  Chimes were being beaten continuously like they fell down an infinite flight of stairs.  She could barely hear the voice beside her, purging again as her stomach forced a disgusting taste from her lips and tongue.  “Cullen…Cullen, stop the screaming!”

“Evie!  It’s me!  Dorian!  Listen to me and calm down!”

Evie gripped her ears as she rocked back and forth.  Several of her braids had undone from the back of her head, batting at her face continuously.  “The noise.  Stop the noise!  Please!”

_Slap!_

Evie froze, thankful she was out of mana at the moment.  Her immediate response was to set everything on fire.  Her ears still struggled with the deafening noise, but her eyes burned fiercely at the man who just smacked her across the face.

“Don’t give me that face!”  Dorian huffed, flicking his reddening hand a few times in the air.  “You’re worse that those noble women who walk in on their husbands in bed with another man!”

It took Evie’s eyes a few moments to realize the person who pulled her out of the water was not her commander, but the Tevinter mage.  “Dorian?  What…?”  She looked around the room, feeling the chimes and ringing emulating from the red shining walls.  The mark kept sparking, wishing to release more energy.  “Where…?”

Dorian kneeled down beside her, trying to study the room himself.  The fire mage knew that look on any mage, the academic coming to life.  “Displacement…?  Interesting.”  He walked away towards the back wall.  “It’s probably not what Alexius intended.  The rift must have moved us…to where?”  He glanced at his fellow lost mage.  “The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

Evie went to rub her eyes, freezing as she saw dirt and waste smeared on her palms.  “This is….”  Evie gagged and spit, watching a decomposing body float by.  “This is sewer waste…Maker’s arse…”

Dorian immediately looked at himself, seeing his silk robes turning green.  “Dammit!  And I thought blood was going to be the biggest stain to get out…”

The Herald pulled the few fallen braids back behind her, tying them together to keep them out of her eyes and avoid infection.  Afterwards, the fire mage stumbled to her feet, falling a few times as her equilibrium struggled against the screaming chimes and high singing around her.  There was no other music in the Fade to grasp.  “There is so much arcane strength here…I-I can’t pull mana properly…”  Evie leaned on her staff to gain some balance.

Evie’s bright green eyes shifted throughout the room, noticing the tall spikes of red lyrium singing around them.  Despite the waste on her gloves, she rubbed her temples to clear the ringing away to remember what exactly happened.  “The last thing I remember we were in the castle hall.” 

The Herald realized they were caged in the dark and dreary room.  The way out was through a barred door.  Her eyes caught something shimmering on a pile of rocks on the door’s other side.  She stumbled forward, kneeling by the door and reaching as much as possible towards the object.  Her ruined suede gloves dusted off some ash, most likely the guards she had just eradicated.  Her mark hand grasped the object.  The metal nearly burnt through her gloves, thankful for the fire resistance sigil she placed on the clothing.  The Herald dunk it in the sewer water.  Steam and bubbles rose to the surface as she pull it upwards to the surface to review.  It was a brass key.  Her attention attuned to the barred door’s lock.

Dorian kept pulling at his moustache, thinking everything through.  “Let’s see.  If we’re still in the castle, it isn’t…”  He snapped his head around as the barred door unlocked behind him.  The action alerted the scholar.  “Oh!  Of course!  It’s not simply where—it’s when!  Alexius used the amulet as a focus.  It moved us through time!”

Evie tucked the brass key in her coat pocket, her eyes darkening at the news.  “That…doesn’t sound good.”

Dorian grimaced, walking to meet the woman by the door.  “It sounds _terrible_ , depending on when we are and what happened while we were away.”

“What was Alexius trying to do?”  Evie peaked around the bars for any signs of life.

“I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “My, Patricia would have loved that.  She has been trying to snuff me out since we were toddlers.”

Dorian huffed.  “Sounds like a lovely woman.  However, if that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One’s plan.  I think your surprise in the castle made him reckless.  He tossed us into the rift before he was ready.  I countered it, the magic went, and here we are.  Make sense?”

“This is all so fucking insane.”  Evie shook her head, while rubbing her temples some more.  She knew she was rubbing feces all over her face, but she did not care.  The chimes and singing were drilling into her skull.

“I don’t even want to _think_ what this will do the fabric of the world.”

“You mean along with the Breach?”  Evie added.

Dorian nodded quickly, while his eyes grew big.  “We didn’t ‘travel’ through time so much punch a hole through it and toss it in the privy.”

Evie referenced the water around them.  “Well, here we all…”

Dorian smirked.  After a few seconds, his face relaxed and beamed at the woman so dazed and confused by the situation.  “But don’t worry.  I’m here.  I’ll protect you.”

Evie threw the man a look, stunned by his sudden reassurance.  Evie swallowed, regretting the action as more urinic acid ran down her throat.  It was the Warden whiskey all over again. 

There was something about Dorian’s baritone voice and tan, firm face that brought some peace to her crazed soul.  He believed in what he said, protecting her from whatever may happen.  Only a blind idiot would state he was not handsome.  He was charming and snarky like she, using humor and wit to lighten a chaotic situation.  She took a liking to him as soon as they met in Redcliffe’s Chantry the week before.  Although Cassandra and Cullen told her to be wary of his intentions, Evie was not truly alarmed.  He carried himself like a man who knew he was betraying his mentor and friend and did not care what happened as long as Alexius was stopped. 

Evie felt the same the day her Circle fell.  She was forced to choose between the Loyalist and the Libertarians against the blood mages and apprentices.  The fire mage did not care about loyalty and mage rights, only to try and save Lydia, the children, and elderly before abominations tore everyone apart.  It was the only time Linnea and she actually directly communicated.  The liberal mage showed her a way out of the tower, used by apostates who had been fleeing the Circle the past month.  Evie did what was necessary to save her fellow mages and reasonable templars who were not massacring everyone they saw.  When she saw the blood-mage apprentice cut Lydia in the jugular and call forth a pride demon, she knew it was time to leave.  There was no one else to save.

Evie set an explosion mine by the lyrium stores.  She waited until the raging templars and blood mages were following the group and sent the blue vials aflame.  The Herald only had a few seconds to run down the old mining passage before blowing Ostwick’s tower to pieces at the base, causing the whole structure to fall down the mountain.

Dorian blew his tower to pieces standing with her, knowing he was killing fellow countrymen and friends.  It was necessary to save Thedas.  She could trust the mage, perhaps the only person should trust, especially in this weird alternative timeline.  Evie’s guarded soul relaxed as she nodded calmly at Dorian.

Evie’s mind shifted from panic to determination.  Her academic mind swirled as important questions presented themselves.  “Did we go forward in time or back, and how far?”

Dorian smirked, realizing the woman was his page.  “Those are _excellent_ questions.  We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

“Along if anyone else was pushed through the time warp.” Evie added.

Dorian grimaced, taking the first steps out of the room.  “I doubt if anyone else traveled as well.  The rift was not large enough to bring the whole room through.  Alexius wouldn’t risk catching himself or Felix in it.  They’re probably still where and when we left them.  In some sense, anyway.”

Evie took point down the hall, twirling her ice staff in her right hand to prepare.  She could not hear her Fade violin because of all the noise.  If she was holding a fire staff, she could channel her willpower through it to draw through the Veil, but alas, she stupidly dropped it off a cliff to let go of that damn commander.

Dorian grasped his skull head staff, drawing purple and spiritual energy towards himself.  Evie did not recognize his specialization, knowing the mage probably had more magical knowledge than she.  He was never bound by stupid Chantry laws regarding which disciplines to research.  He had already proven his highly expanded knowledge with time magic.

Evie glanced over her shoulder.  “Alexius mentioned an ‘Elder One.’  Do you know who he was talking about?”

Dorian sighed, shaking his head.  “Leader of the Venatori, I suspect.  Another magister aspiring to godhood.  It’s the same old tune.  Apparently, this individual never learned about creating the Blight.  Alexius never mentioned the Venatori’s objective when he approached me.  All the more reason I told him to fuck off.  Of course, he was not pleased by my turn of phrase.  They dabbled in magic that even the Imperium went, uh no.  ‘Let’s play with magic we don’t understand.  It will make us incredibly powerful!’  Evidently, it doesn’t matter if you rip apart the fabric of time in the process.”

“You have a plan to get us, I hope.”  Evie trusted, her legs kicking feces and decomposing bodies as she trotted forward through the halls.  “I am a little…out of my magic expertise at the moment.”

Dorian chuckled.  “I have some thoughts on that.  They’re lovely thoughts, like little jewels.”

Evie’s lips curled.  “Well, I will have to protect them like your virginity, won’t I?”

“Sunshine, that was lost _ages_ ago.”  Dorian cooed back.  “Although, I would prefer to place my gems between you and me…”

Evie burst out laughing.  “Dinner, then a theater show before that, my young suitor.  Seriously, do you northerners not know how to get in a woman’s pants or do you spellbound them first.”

“I just have to smile and lick my lips, and I hear panties hit the floor.”

Evie felt her filthy cheeks burn at the exchange.  There was no filter on this man’s tongue.  She was always vulgar with Iron Bull, but it was a contest to see who could make Varric pass out first and Sera applaud and whistle.  On the other hand, Dorian was actually making her flustered and hot in her coat even when covered in urine and feces.  Maker, help her.

The two mages followed the long hallways for a while, seeing only skeletons and bodies scattered throughout the area.  As they slowly climbed some stairs, Evie’s mind wandered back to her childhood.  Scratches on the wall and old paintings alerted her to earlier times.  “I recognize these drawings, but I did not see them when we entered the castle.”

“Alexius has made a dreadful mess of this place, hasn’t he?  It was covered in the tackiest carvings of wolves and dogs I’d even seen.  This is not an improvement.” 

Evie laughed.  “We are in Ferelden.  The country’s obsessed with hounds.”

Dorian stepped up towards a red lyrium node, entranced by its glow and hum.  Evie blocked the man with her staff.  “Don’t.  That’s red lyrium.  Makes people paranoia and crazy.  Can’t you hear the singing?  The chimes?”

“I thought it was just my ear filled with water, but yes.  It is coming from the Fade, isn’t it?”  Dorian realized taking a few steps back.

“We are still in the castle.”  Evie realized, entering the prison area.  “Redcliffe Castle actually stretches down the mountain with a bay entrance by Lake Calenhad, although reaching it is suicide.”

“You’ve been here before?”

Evie’s eyes fell to the water around her, hearing giggling and laughter in the back of her mind.  “It was like my second home for a time, my only real home.”  By the mage’s expression, Dorian held his tongue, allowing silence to fill the air as wandered into their new reality.


	19. Seeing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING!   
> Major description of violence and gore at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Romance" by Apocalyptica
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Tears grew in Evie’s bright green eyes, hearing the young elf’s repeating chant fill the prison cell.  She remembered that man as the mage who had greeted the Inquisition in Redcliffe Village.  He seem surprised that the order was there, even after Evie explained Fiona invited them.  He sounded scared and unnerved by the grand enchanter’s choice to sell the mages to Tevinter.  Now, Evie witnessed the consequences.

“Andraste bless me.  Andraste bless me…My tears are my sins, my sins, my sins…Andraste guide me, Andraste guide me…”  The young elf mage sang, his eyes red as they stared into nothing.  He looked sickly as he swayed back and forth, repeating his chant.

Evie noticed a red aura pulsing from his body, ringing and humming like the red lyrium surrounding him in the cell.  “Lysas?  Hello?  Do you remember me?”

“Andraste bless me, Andraste bless me…”  The man never registered her presence.

“Come, Evie,” Dorian called from behind her.  “There might be others here…”  Evie stepped away, wiping away the tears pooling around her eyes.  She mouthed to the man, ‘I’m sorry’ as she was forcedly turned away.

Evie did not remember Redcliffe Castle’s underground being so extensive.  She has not been to the castle since she was six, but everything looked so old.  Maybe the Blight encouraged the arl to expand, especially after the undead incursion?  Had she missed this area when she would go and explore?  Was it because they were so far into the future that everything was ancient?  No, that would not make sense because why was Lysas still ‘alive’? 

The only conclusion the mage could determine it was because of the red lyrium.  It grew like mold and climbed the walls, consuming anything and everything around it.  Nausea hit Evie because of its excessive humming.  Dorian gagged a few times behind her and covered his ears at points trying to block out the sound.  Both were starting to hear whispers in the noise, so they walked faster to escape the dungeons.

Dorian and Evie fought their first Tevinters at a junction over a grated catwalk built above lava.  The skirmish was over before it started, but Evie nearly had another panic attack as the mark overwhelmed her control.  Drawing mana from it was not working as effectively as it had before.  Something was different.  Something about the mark and the Fade here did not make sense.

In the prison’s right wing, they discovered the first responsive person that knew them.  He stood in front of a cell, tilting his head side to side, staring forwards then wrote quickly on a tablet.  Strapped to his back was a broken and twisted contraption, the remains of Bianca.

“Varric!  Thank the Maker!”  Evie called, but Dorian grabbed her arm before she ran forward.

“Something is wrong…” Dorian whispered as the mage watched the dwarf staring into the cell contently.

Evie followed his gaze, watching the man turn towards them, hobbling forward.  “What have they done to you…?”

Varric’s burning red eyes stared at the Herald, not surprised to see the woman.  “I knew your ghost haunted here.  I guess the lyrium is starting its crazy shit again.  You’ll disappear soon.”

“I’m not a ghost, Varric.”  Evie explained confused by the dwarf’s statement.  “I am alive.  I never died.”

“We were pushed through time.”  Dorian explained.

“No matter.  I must record it.”  Varric started to write on his tablet.  “I must record everything.”

“Record everything?” Evie questioned slowly walking forward.

“I am Alexius’ scribe.” Varric remarked.  “He knew about my books and told me to inscribe everything I witnessed, write about the Elder One’s new world.”

Evie was about a foot from the dwarf as she glanced inside of the cell he had been studying.  The prisoner’s body was almost missing, sans her head, chest and arm.  She leaned against the wall, panting as her red glowing eyes grew big.  “You’re alive?  How?  I saw you…disappear…into the rift.”

Evie waved Dorian over, bumping Varric as he scribbled on his parchment.  “Fiona?  I don’t understand.  What’s happened to you?  Why is red lyrium growing from your body?!”

The former grand enchanter wheezed as she spoke.  The red aura pulsed from her will and body.  “Red lyrium…it’s a disease.  The longer you’re near it…eventually…you become this.  Then, they mine your corpse for more.”

“Maker’s arse…”  Evie whispered.

“Can you tell us the date?”  Dorian quizzed, stepping forward towards the decaying mage.  “It’s very important.”

Fiona swallowed, struggling to breathe.  “Harvastmere…9:42 Dragon.”

Evie and Dorian both looked at each other, then at the grand enchanter.  “Nine forty- _two_?  Then, we’ve missed an entire year.”

Evie rubbed her temples.  “We now know when and where we are.  We have to get out of here, go back in time.”

Fiona coughed.  “You must….beware.  Alexius…serves the Elder One.  More powerful…than the Maker…no one…challenges him and lives.”

The moment Evie heard Alexius’ name, the mark sparked to life.  She grimaced as her temper ignited inside of her.  “That magister’s going to regret he didn’t just kill me.”

Dorian stood there thinking, rubbing his chin.  “Our only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here.  If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left.  Maybe.”

Fiona smiled a little.  “Good…”

“I said _maybe._   It might also turn us into paste.”

Evie could not bite her tongue.  “I hope into jam.  Grape jam is favorite.”  Dorian gave her a motherly look of disgust.

“You _must_ try.  Your spymaster, Leliana…she is here.  Find her.  Quickly….before the Elder One…learns you’re here.”  The mage had no more strength left, passing out from all the talking.

Varric leaned into the cell, watching the woman and started to write again.  “Cassandra and Sera are in the other cells on the other side of the prison too.”

Evie’s cheek twitched.  “They are!?  Varric, why haven’t you freed them.”

Varric shrugged.  “No point.  I am to observe and record.”

Evie grabbed his shoulders, shaking him.  “You idiot!  You all need to get out of here!  You need to escape!”

Varric tilted his head.  “Why?  Where to?”

Dorian’s hand pulled on Evie’s shoulder.  His lips turned to her ear.  “I do not think all the hamsters are running upstairs.”

“I cannot run.”  Varric grumbled, pointing to his right leg.

Evie’s eyes followed his finger, showing his missing leg.  He hobbled back and forth, the spring in his leg moving with him.  “What happened…?”

“Bianca struck Felix in the leg, so Alexius took mine.  He tossed me into a cell and broke Bianca across my head.”  He showed the deep scar in his skull in the back.  “I reconstructed her to be a leg.  Damn good one, I might add.”

“Why did you strike Felix?!”  Dorian yelled, nearly pushing Evie over.

“I was trying to kill him.”

Dorian’s magic gathered as Evie stepped in front the mage before attacking.  “We do not know what is going on, and you said it yourself he is mad.  If he can lead us to the others and back to the present…”

Dorian relaxed and walked out of the room before his anger took over.  Evie turned back to the crazy Varric before her writing continuously.  “Can you show us to Cassandra, Sera, and Leliana?”

Varric nodded, pointing forward.  “I have to write it all down anyway.  Just don’t talk fast.”

Evie was keeping herself together as much as possible.  She did not need Dorian worrying about her.  Everyone else was insane, and she did not need to be.  When they found Sera, the rogue was trying to remember tongue twisters to tease the guards and to keep her mind straight.  The elf believed Evie was a ghost or a hallucination.  One mention of Alexius and she nearly went mad, shaking her head frantically.

“…The day you died?  I ran out of arrows making them pay.”  The rogue whimpered, her red eyes looking everywhere for any sign that Evie was not real.  “Then, it didn’t matter anymore.  He’s got demons and gods, and I’ve got a bow.  And I just…I want them to hurt!  If you’re really here, I’ll frigging die to spit in their faces.”

The fire mage almost lost it when Cassandra realized she actually existed, stumbling out of her cell.  “I was there.  The magister obliterated you with a gesture…Make forgive me.  I failed you.  I was so cruel towards you.  Never told you I respected you and believed in you…I will regret that with every last breath.  If I had just told you…maybe…”

The tears were flowing before Evie realized it.  The seeker was always her worst enemy, yet there was no reason for it now except that she did not help Evie when she needed it all those years ago.  Evie only saw her as a woman who could brand her for being a mage, not as a comrade or friend.  This Cassandra had spent the last year begging for forgiveness.  This was not the shield maiden who always gave Evie a hard time, but a broken woman trapped in the mindset that she was a failure.

“Where is Alexius?” Evie’s voice was deep as the mage pulled at the Fade.

Cassandra’s red eyes stared into hers.  Her face was white and her veins were black strings throughout along her angular face.  “Alexius locked himself in the throne room.  That’s where we’ll find him.”  She coughed a few times, stumbling to the ground. 

Evie caught her before she fell.  “What…what did they do…?”

Varric flicked his quill forward.  “They fed her red lyrium.  She could not be mined like the others or corrupted, so they fed it to her instead.  Testing and all.”

Evie could not believe how casual the dwarf acted as Cassandra spit up blood on Evie shoulder.   “Are you okay, Sera?”

Sera shook her head, covering her head.  “…We walked and waked where willows…”  Evie realized then the tongue twister was her way of not remembering the abuse the elf experienced.  On her exposed arms, chucks of skin were cut away like someone sampled her to test the meat for a feast.

Evie threw Cassandra’s arm over her shoulder, pulling the warrior to her feet.  Dorian was carrying a rusty shield and sword they found scavenging the undercroft.  They had already given Sera some arrows and a subpar bow.  When they tried to offer a weapon to Varric, the dwarf just stepped away and continued to scribble his nonsense

Another skirmish broke out leaving the prison for the upper levels.  Cassandra felt better running her rusty sword into a Venatori zealot.  Sera cried out she wanted to hit someone else.  It made her feel better.  Varric just continued to write, filling pages with words barely paying attention to what was happening around him.

The next level was the torture chambers.  Evie prayed that it did not exist prior to the Venatori.  She could not envision Teagan or Eamon torturing anyone.  They were not those types of noblemen.  Evie heard screaming from one room, running up the stairs as quickly as possible to assist the victim.  She busted the door open with her foot, tossing fireballs at the torturers and ran them threw with her staff blade.  Running the head torturer through, Evie recognized his face as Hanley, a devout Andrastian who wished the Circles to return.  He begged the Herald to help the mages while standing beside the Griffon statue in Redcliffe Village.[1]  Why did he serve Alexius now?!  When she turned towards the victim, Evie identified the cleric hanging on the t-frame with her guts pouring out of her abdomen.  “Revered Mother Havera…”

“Makes me sick, what they to the priests.”  Sera sneered at the body.

Evie grabbed Varric’s quill so he would not record the sacrifice.  He just tried to take it back, struggling to reach the woman’s arm.  She broke it in half and tossed at the pouting dwarf.  “She argued with me…she was relieved that I did not think I was the Herald.  She died for her faith.  Maker have mercy…”

“How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple?  Answer!”

Evie’s bright green eyes burned as she heard her name from a nearby room.  The mage flashed flames in her left hand as she gripped her staff.  She took off running ready to confront the torturer as he slapped his prisoner.

“There’s no use to this defiance, little bird.  There’s no one left for you to protect.”

“You’re wasting your breath.”

Evie knew that cutting Orlesian accent.  Leliana.  Which room?!

“Talk!  The Elder One demands answers!”

The rogue was laughing.  That is the Sister Nightingale Evie had come to know.  “He’ll get used to disappointment.”

Evie kicked the door in, causing Leliana’s torturer to pivot and stare at the party.  He had the rogue hanging by her wrists off the floor.  Leliana wrapped her legs around the man’s throat, choking him.  One quick action and she broke his neck.  Evie allowed her flames to fall away as she rushed towards the body for the key.

“Well, that was impressive.”  Dorian cooed as everyone entered the room.

Evie kept Leliana on her feet as she unhooked her hands from the restraints.  “Anger is stronger than pain.”  She stood by herself, studying the mage.  “You’re alive, thank the Maker.  Do you have weapons?”

Evie nodded, pulling a second bow and arrows from her side pack.  Leliana fastened the gear to her person despite her armor and clothes torn, hanging loosely to her battered body.  She marched out of the room towards the next set of stairs.  If she was wounded, the rogue did not show it.

“You aren’t interested how we got here?”  Dorian quizzed as the woman passed by him.

“No.”

Dorian grimaced, explaining anyway.  “Alexius sent us into the future.  This, his victory, his Elder One—it was never meant to be.”

Evie followed behind Leliana.  “I need to find Alexius and reverse the spell-“

Leliana twirled around, pressing her face and body against Evie.  “-and mages always wonder why people fear them…no one should have this power.  You act so casual about this…world.  This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist.  I suffered.  The whole world suffered.  It was real, all real.”  She pushed Evie away and turned away towards the stairs.

Evie stood dazed for a few moments.  Leliana had always been calm and collective with her.  She supported mages having normal lives, always arguing with Cullen to whom they should seek to seal the Breach.  Yet here, Leliana was a skeleton with her cheeks sunken in and her eyes black circles.  She had not been fed red lyrium, just constantly abused and tortured for answers she did not have.  That must be why she replied so coldly towards her, right?

“We need to find Alexius.  I’m sure he’ll be in the nice part of the castle, if there is one.”  Evie directed the party towards a flight of stairs at the end of the hall.

“You don’t want to go out there…”  Varric sang, using his finger to dip in the ink well and finger write.

Evie stomped back at the hobbling crazed dwarf, knocking the well off his tablet.  The black liquid spilled all over the floor.  “Yes, I do.”

 

* * *

 

“I told you didn’t want to go out here.”  Varric cooed evilly from behind the group, writing again on his tablet.  Now, he used a piece of burnt wood with carbon, flaky ash.

Evie slumped over, staring at the sky above her.  She remembered the courtyard with its beautiful lush flower beds and tall apple trees that she would climb and sleep in.  Now, the Breach stained the sky green.

“The Breach!  It’s…”

“…Everywhere.”  Dorian finished, walking forward, his face upwards staring at the hole.

“The Elder One and his Venatori.  They are the ones who opened the Breach.”  Cassandra grunted, walking to Evie’s side.

The Breach had always been a scary site for Evie.  Every time she walked out of the Chantry in Haven, the mark sparked, responding to the hole in the Veil like a call and answer.  Here, the sky _was_ the Breach with floating boulders and huge lightning strikes as clouds swirled overhead.  There was no sun, no moon, only a constant green glow.  Evie swore she could look directly into the Fade.

That must be why there were constant noise in her head and the mark never rested on her hand.  Drawing mana from the mark weakened it when she neared the Breach, but she could not do that here.  It _was_ the sky.  It _was_ the world.

Evie’s temper escalated as she imagined what she would do to Alexius when she saw the bastard.  She took the first steps forward, walking up the first flight of stairs in the courtyard.  Flames puffed constantly from her fingertips.

“I wouldn’t go up there…”

The fire mage threw a fireball at Varric’s tablet, catching the parchment on fire.  The dwarf stared at the sight, tilting his head until Dorian battered the tablet out of his hands to avoid burning the crazy man.  “Shut it, Varric!”  Red Cassandra grinned a little at the Herald.  Varric just pouted at his lost work.

The group encountered their first two fade rifts.  Both contained the distorted time paradoxes that Evie fought in front of Redcliffe’s gate.  It took more demon rounds to weaken it, and it took more attempts for Evie to close the tears.  The mage concluded it must be the Breach and the multiple times Alexius used his time abilities.  Dorian was right.  The magister did not care if he punched holes through time, just as long as he succeeded.  At what, Evie did not know yet.

Once the rifts were closed, the fire mages was able to study the courtyard a little better.  It was not until her eyes adjusted to the stairs leading into the main castle.  Evie fell to her knees, purging acid all over the ground, screaming in anger and disgust.  She reluctantly lifted her head up again.

The stairs were ‘decorated’ in heads.  King Alistair and Empress Celene’s head were on the highest pikes by the door, their flesh barely hanging onto their skulls. 

Varric hobbled forward, rubbing his hands together like a golem.  “He claimed the king the day you died.  He delivered himself so nicely to Alexius.  He was the first to die, ushering the Elder One’s new world.  Yet, the magister regretted it because he could not experiment on the Grey Warden.  The Imperium’s conquest truly began as his disciplines assassinated the empress and all her court.  The Elder One likes Alexius’ collection.”

Evie’s bright green eyes focused on the remaining heads on smaller pikes on the courtyard’s multiple levels.  There were hundreds.  Some were burnt, others were fresh kills.  Evie could not look away, scanning the heads for anyone she recognized.  It was not until she focused on the ones on the ramparts that tears streamed from her eyes and more screams echoed against the stone walls.

“Ah…” Varric’s little creepy voice cooed beside her.  “You like?  Alexius takes the greatest prizes and put them the highest so everyone can admire them…Iron Bull was the next head along with his Chargers.  They were caught returning to Haven.  The Qunari fought hard, but lost his will once the mages cut down his second, Krem.  There was barely anyone worth fighting in Haven.  Josephine was in charge and could not rally the troops.  It was a glorious massacre.  That mage Vivienne froze some Venatori, but she could not kill the Elder One.  Blackwall was claimed on the castle’s first assault with the Fereldan army.  He was captured and he was used as a guinea pig for the magister’s experiments.  It was a waste of time.  His head is the one with no skin.  Alexius ripped it off, leaving his funny brown beard in place.  Solas died during the Orlesian-led assault, if you can call it an assault.  There were very little Orlesians left after Celene died.  They were too busy killing one another to care what the Elder One was doing.  Alas, the elven mage put up the most fight, but was overwhelmed.  Blew himself up with ice.  That’s why there are so many ice crystals sticking out of his eyeballs.”

A mixture of relief and panic overwhelmed Evie’s senses as she realized one skull was not present.  “Cullen…Cullen’s alive!  Cullen’s okay, right?”

No one spoke, staring at the ground as Varric’s smile.  “Oh yes.  He is a very good subject.”

The panic took over as Varric’s insane voice alerted the mage that she might not want to know what he meant.  Her attention returned to the heads adorning all the walls.  She pulled the Fade towards her, grasping at the violin’s quiet tune among all the noise and started casting.  She threw mines and fireballs at the battlements and railings in rapid succession, turning the courtyard into an inferno.

Dorian joined in, casting lightning bolts at the pikes so they ignited.  Sera shot arrows at the head targets, yelling at the top of her lungs.  Cassandra and Leliana just watched, whispering Chantry chants under their breaths.  Varric winced as each skull fell and busted over the ground, his finger writing in the air to ‘record’ the act for his master.

Evie kept gesturing spells when her mana depleted, tears falling from her jaw and chin.  She screamed, running forward to slice Alistair and Celene’s heads from the pikes with her staff blade and used the focus crystal to freeze them.  She smashed them to bits with the staff’s blade.  Finally, she stopped, panting and swaying.  She gazed at her destruction, whispering “May the Maker guide you to peace…my friends.”

Another fade rift—stronger than the others—waited for the group once they entered the castle.  Venatori were fighting the demons pouring out of it and losing.  Evie had no problem cutting down the mages.  Her mana had returned to her quickly once she allowed her anger and hate to fuel her flames.  The demons were a little tougher, but after a few casts and slicing their heads off with her staff blade, they fell to ash.  Closing the rift was becoming easier as Evie focused on the huge mass floating in front of her.  The mark and she were in unison like they were both horrified by the magister’s actions.

Entering the grand hall was not easy.  The magister cravenly locked himself behind a massive stone magical door.  Letters around the castle suggested Alexius was growing paranoid about his failures and his master.  Evie collected each page, placing them in her coat pocket to show the Alexius in the present what his great plan really included, _if_ they returned.

The massive door required specialized red lyrium shards held by Alexius’ generals throughout the castle.  The first shard was on a zealot’s body in the main hallway they were standing.  Evie directed the group to follow her, first to the left wing.  Evie recognized this area from her past, walking with heavy feet and an aggressive mind towards her new adversaries.

They found Connor as he turned to ash.  Evie screamed for the mage as she heard his cry.  Evie remembered holding him as a newborn the last time she was in the castle.  He was small and weak infant, much like her when she was born.  She was living in the Circle when she heard he had become possessed and was successful saved by Alistair and Warden Cousland.  The feat had never been tried before, and it worked.  Evie wondered why it had not been attempted before the boy, saving so many mages from death.  Was it because he was noble?  Was it because the Wardens required Eamon’s assistance again Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir?  The accomplishment never made sense to her.[2]

Evie remembered Connor’s terror and inner struggle in Redcliffe Village.  He said he should have never came home, but he followed the rebellion there anyway.  Evie tried to convince the mage to follow her back to Haven, but he felt like he had to stay with his fellow mages.  He saw himself as a freak who deserved to be locked away.  Evie sympathized, thinking about all the years her family looked at her like a leper.  The Herald explained she knew his family and that he could do more in a proper position.  No matter how hard Evie pleaded, Connor did not follow.  Now, Evie witnessed the man’s inner struggle at its end.  Maybe when she returned, he will listen to her finally.

“It was an act of courage.  He knew there was no other way to resist.  He resisted that demon to the last…”  Dorian commented as Evie wiped some tears from her cheeks.

“There is always another way.”  Evie’s voice was low and deep.  “Connor proved that.”

The next two Venatori generals were easy.  Sera put an arrow through one’s head in the dining hall.  Evie blew up the other.  They only needed two more shards.  They were that much closer to killing that Tevinter bastard.

The team went to the castle’s right side to confront the others.  Evie noted Cassandra and Sera’s tension as they wandered the rooms.  They were waiting for something.  The Elder One?  No, from the Venatori cries and parchment notes they kept finding, the Elder One was not there, but most likely coming soon.  The fear in her comrades’ red eyes were different, full sorrow and sheer terror.

Cassandra busted through several weak walls as the group ambushed multiple Venatori zealots.  After the third wall, the team knew they had to go back out into the hallway because the whole side of the building was now unstable and crumbling down the mountain.  As Evie entered the hall, holding the last red lyrium shard, something caught her eye above her.  The ceiling was completely missing, while boulders punched through the walls from the Breach. 

“What happened here?”

Cassandra stammered.  “Find Alexius.  That’s all that matters.”

“Y-Yes.  Let’s leave this place, yeah?”  Sera echoed, both women stepped backwards towards the main hall.

The stone floor started to vibrate.  Horrific growling echoed off the weak walls.  With each step, more of the ceiling crumbled around them as singing pierced Evie’s ears.  Dorian was the first to gasp as his eyes locked on something rounding the corner from the very end of the passage.

“He’s here…” Varric sang, clapping.

Evie’s bright green eyes glanced forward as mutated being lumbered forward, dragging as oversized red lyrium sword in its hand and dragged it across the stone floor.  Red spikes grew from its hunched back.  Its long curly hair covered most of his deformed face, while it looked like it had a Mohawk of red lyrium down its skull and neck.

“Maker’s arse!  What is that?!”  Evie yelled, twirling her staff in her hand.  A fireball formed in the other.

Varric waved at the creature as it howled and beat its metal chest.  Most of its huge body was metal and red lyrium.  “Hi, Curly!”

Evie froze.  Curly.  Varric called him Curly.  No, that cannot be right.  No, he is alive somewhere okay, right?!

“We need to run!  Now!”  Cassandra warned, holding her shield out in front of her.

The monster pulled its oversized sword over its head and thrusted it down on Evie’s position.  Dorian rushed forward, knocking both mages to the side.  Rocks and debris flew in all directions as Evie pulled herself up again.

“Cul…len?”

The beast roared again, beating its chest and preparing his sword again for his next strike.

“Beauty, isn’t he?”  Varric giggled.  “Alexius said that this is what a templar was supposed to be!  All the other templars did not respond as well to the red lyrium.  However, the commander was a prize.  He was the last to be captured.  He led every assault against the castle, knowing there was no use.  You were dead.  There was no way to win.  Yet, he kept throwing men and himself at it.  He was the last to fall, refusing to be taken by force.  Killed fifty of Alexius’ mages before they had him.  He refused the red lyrium so many times, but they just kept injecting the stuff into his body until…this.”

Evie could not stop shaking, leaning against the wall.  Her eyes bugged out of her skull as she gripped the braids on either side of her head.  The tears would not stop falling from her bright green eyes as the creature kept growling and throwing his sword at the group.  Sera kept dodging as Cassandra attempted to keep him distracted.  Dorian kept throwing barriers up over the group.  The thing never stuck Varric as the dwarf stared up at the creation, waving his finger in the air describing its magnificence.

“I-it isn’t true…” Evie whimpered, falling to her knees.  Her chest kept feeling like it was punched repeatedly as debris battled at her face.  “Cullen is fine.  He is okay.  He was a templar, one of the greatest knights in Thedas.  No, he would not do this!”

“Evie!” Dorian screamed, casting another lightning bolt.  “He’s an abomination!  We have to put him down!”

“No, he isn’t!   He was smiling, wishing us well in Haven.  He is…is…”

Suddenly, Evie was struck in the stomach so hard she was thrown against the wall, penned against some debris.  She coughed up some blood as her blurry eyes focused on the red creature yelling at her, holding here against wall ten feet in the air.  She was so close to its face that she could see his lip scar among the red spikes and long curly hair.  That was when it finally sunk in.

“May I…may I use my magic, Ser?”  The mage whimpered as it hollered in her face.

Evie had never attempted this spell, but she knew it was time to try.  She wanted to erase this being from existence, from her mind and heart.  The monster’s amber eyes burned back at her with such focus.  Evie’s right hand reached for its face as she gathered her magic around her.  She barely touched the scar above its lips as she whispered.  “I’m so sorry…”

Evie screamed, hearing her violin in all the noise.  She pulled the solo towards her will, drawing from the mark for strength.  “Dive for cover!”  She thrusted her hands into the air, forming a large fireball between her hands, expanding it as she pulled her hands away from one another.  The fireball shot up in the air and burst into hundreds of flames, streaking down from above all over the creature.  She successfully casted _firestorm._

The creature hollered in pain as the fireballs rained from above, igniting the whole wing.  Its grip let loose, and the fire mage fell to the floor.  The remaining party huddled behind a large boulder with a magic barrier around them.  Evie stumbled to her feet and ran forward hollering with all her might, skipping off the boulder where the party hid.  She jumped on top of the creature, driving her staff blade repeated into the monster’s distorted face.  Blood poured from the blows, covering Evie’s body and face as she just kept stabbing.  She slid down the body as it started to topple over.  She accessed its chest, specific its heart with a spike jetted out of the metal.  Evie broke the spike, red dust flying into her eyes.  She winced, blinding goring again into the chest.

The creature tumbled to the ground, the walls and floor vibrating as its mass crushed on its back.  Evie kept widely stabbing until there was no more movement, no more gushing blood from its jugular and heart.  With one last piercing, she pushed with her whole weight into the creature, hitting some hard inside the chest cavity.  Evie slowly withdrew her staff, the blade tip was broken off.  She looked inside the gapping whole seeing a shiny gem inside between the metal and flush body not consumed by red lyrium.  The mage reached in, gripping a smooth object.  She lifted it out, noting it was not red lyrium.  In the conflagration around her, she gazed at the smooth gem in her hand.  She started to shake and tumbled to her bottom near Dorian, sobbing widely as her hands and face dripped with the creature’s blood, Cullen’s blood.  Her eyes could not look away from the object she held so tightly.

“Evie!”  Dorian hollered, casting a healing spell on her eyes as the red lyrium burned and scratched her flesh.  “Pull yourself together!”

The Herald’s body turned warm as she rocked back and forth seeing red drip from her fingers.  It was like her dreams.  It was real.  She killed him.  She drained him like a druffalo.  Maker, above.  Why?!  Why had the Maker let this all occur!?  How did Cullen…?  Why did this happen?! 

“Slap me again!”  Evie sobbed, gripping her chest.  The stabs shattered her weeping heart.  She stabbed him, mentally gouging herself.  Her protection.  Her comfort.

_Slap!_

Evie fell over that time, laying still as Dorian waved his hand a few times.  “We can stop this, Evie.”  The Tevinter explained, kneeling by the limp Herald.  “We can make sure this never happens, but I cannot do this alone.  Get up and confront, Alexius!”

Evie turned her head a little.  Her bangs dripped with blood and guts.  “I must…go back…Must…end this.”

Dorian held out his hand to pull her up.  “Then let’s _do_ this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] It took me until my eighth play through to realize who the torturer truly was.  It makes you wonder what Corypheus and Alexius did in that one year that changed a devout Andrastian into one of their followers.
> 
> [2] Saving Connor is up there with “Grey Wardens never get involved with politics” and elemental barriers can only be destroyed with the opposite element.  Bioware is horrible with consistencies.  Even the books and games confuse which year Alistair was born. I love all the meme post I see about it. What are inconsistencies are there in the series?


	20. Just In Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Counting Stars" by OneRepublic
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

Cullen slowed his Ferelden Forder to a walk as he and King Alistair entered Redcliffe Village.  The last twenty-four bells had been long and tiring for the commander and his men.  They pushed their horses at a full gallop since Haven midday yesterday.  They traded mounts in the night along the Imperial Road at one of their checkpoints where he had left some wary horses the week before.  Thank the Maker he did or they would have never arrived in time.

King Alistair and Arl Teagan were on the edge of the Hinterlands at the East Imperial Road Gate when Cullen intercepted the battalion in the early morning hours.  The nobles were surprised by the commander’s arrival and wary of his intentions.  Cullen quickly explained the castle’s tense situation.  It was agreed that the battalion and the Inquisition squadron would enter Redcliffe Village together.  Teagan remained resistant to the alliance, explaining he had already been chased from his lands by one foreign power and an Orlesian order held encampments throughout the region.  Cullen repeatedly told the man that the Inquisition was not Orlesian and only meant to end the mage-templar conflict.

Thank goodness King Alistair believed Cullen.  The king and the commander knew each other in a previous life:  first as templar recruits and then later during the Blight.  Cullen was a year younger than the king, but took his first potent draught of lyrium by the time Alistair was recruited to the Grey Wardens. Apparently, the Chantry was hesitate allowing the young, silly bastard to become a full templar then.[1] As templar recruits, the young men were close, relying on each other while separated from their families.  Alistair knew Cullen’s character as a man of duty and honor.  The king also knew his family since his younger brother Branson served in the Ferelden army after the Blight.  It was one of the few times Cullen was thankful for being a templar in the last two months.

The village was quieter than the men expected.  Very few people were around.  Most hid in their homes, while the southern mages seem contained in the tavern.  All three leaders slowed their pace.  In the distance, Pellane and a Ferelden scout ran up to greet the men.

“Commander, the Herald and her party entered the castle at the tenth bell, but have yet to emerge.”  Pellane reported, panting after his long run.  “Most Venatori moved to the castle.  Only the most loyal southern mages are allowed to move throughout the village.  We have already cleared the area for you to move forward.”

“What of the draw bridge?”  Cullen requested.  Leliana’s group was to lower the drawbridge once they had infiltrated the castle.

“Down, sir.”  Pellane began.  “It seems the Nightingale’s team cleared the ramparts and patrols.”

“I expected no less.”  Alistair chuckled.  “She probably did it all herself.”

“One last thing, sir.”  Pellane called.  “A dwarf is guarding the gate controls with a crossbow.”

“Varric.”  Cullen predicted.  “He must have hung back to cover their escape if something happened.”

“Varric?  As in ‘I’m going to write a book about this and make you look like an idiot’ Varric?” Alistair quizzed.

Cullen sighed. “The very one.”

“Saved me from a prison once.   Along with a pirate whose boobs hung out of her tunic constantly.  Kept offering a night cap.”[2]

Cullen shook his head, pinching his nose.  “It seems Hawke’s friends _do_ get around…”

“Let us not delay.”  Arl Teagan called, showing his annoyance, while kicking his Forder forward.

Cullen felt the operation was going too easily.  Could it all be a trap?  He turned his attention to his squad.  “Corporal, choose two men and keep guard at the village gate.  Blackwall, stay with them to cover the only entrance and exit to the village.  All others, start clearing the village.  Try to capture the Venatori, but do not hesitate to take them out.  However, be stealthy.  We do not want the castle realizing they lost the village.  Corporal, report back to be once your sweep is complete.”

Blackwall dismounted his horse, collecting his sword and shield from the saddle.  “Do not worry, Commander.  Nothing will enter the village unless they want to lose a head.”

Alistair overheard the order, turning to his second.  “Captain, assist the Inquisition forces with your contingent.  The remaining will follow me and the arl’s knights.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alistair grinned at Cullen.  Cullen nodded at the king.  Most people considered King Alistair an unworthy and lazy king because he was silly and always second guessed himself, qualities Cullen appreciated in a nobleman.  He relied heavily on his uncle, Eamon, on domestic and foreign affairs, particularly since he was not raised to be a monarch.  His placement occurred after Teyren Loghain’s betrayal against his older half-brother, Cailin.  However, he was realistic and had matured greatly since succeeding the throne ten years ago.  Most of his more formal actions occurred when Queen Asta disappeared five years ago.  Before, the queen held a great deal of power, but something happened that caused her to leave.  Afterwards, King Alistair grew as a strong and powerful man, always claiming he must prove to Asta he was worthy of her.  Although, when in personal company, the man was goofy and puerile as ever.

Once the three commanders reached the Redcliffe Castle’s outer gate, they waited for a sign inside.  The castle seemed dead from that distance.  Cullen struggled within himself.  His personal feelings wished to march into the castle and ‘save’ the Herald, while his commanding mind stated that it would be all for not.

“It is like during the Blight.  Funny how things always go full circle.”  Alistair commented, looking at Teagan.  “Remember?  All of us standing around for nightfall when the undead flowed out of the stone walls like army of drunk dwarves looking for a fight.”

“Asta and you gave us all a chance that night.”  Teagan added.  “I just do not know what will happen today.”

Alistair sighed.  “Wonder what she would do now?”

“Probably make a motivational speech and storm the castle.”

Cullen grinned as the two other nobles laughed.  Evie and the queen were similar in that aspect.  Asta, or Astrid she was called by those close to her, was a force of nature.  The woman put Cullen in his place in Kinloch Hold Circle, single-handedly decided the new dwarven king by fighting in the Proving Grounds, and carved out a small homeland for the Dalish in the Brecilian Forest.  No one attempted to challenge her in the Landsmeet because she was determined and strong-willed.  The woman could rally crowds of opposing forces with ease, similar to Evie when she spoke to the mages, clerics, and templars in Haven.

Cullen could not wait.  He needed to know she was okay.

“Let me see what Varric says, and we may proceed.”  Cullen suggested, nudging his Forder forward.  He knew it was foolish maneuver, but he could not contain his anxiety.  “Solas, follow me.  I will fire a fire arrow if the close is clear.”

Alistair nodded.  “We will wait for your signal.”

“Knights, follow him.”  Teagan added, gesturing to his Redcliffe knights accompany the battalion.  His grimace told Cullen everything he needed to know.

Cullen could not blame the arl for being hesitate and cautious.  The man had successfully protected these lands during the Blight.  When Eamon stepped down to become the king’s seneschal, Teagan took over as the Arl of Redcliffe.  He had the respect of his people, particularly the families he saved during the undead incursion.

Before the commander crossed the bridge, Corporal Vale rid up to the battalion.  “Commander, Redcliffe Village is clear of threats.  However, Grand Enchanter Fiona and the mage Connor are unaccounted for.”

“My nephew?”  Teagan called, turning his horse towards the corporal.  “He is here?”

Cullen spoke up.  “Yes, the Herald stated she spoke to the man while she first visited the village.  He traveled here with the rebellion.  She tried to convince him to join us in Haven since he felt uncomfortable being back.”

Teagan’s attitude changed completely.  “We must enter the castle at once.  Eamon will not want harm brought to his only son.”

Cullen held out his hand.  “Let me speak with our man by the gate controls.  We do not want to be ambushed and trapped.”

Alistair nodded.  “Teagan, we all want no harm to come to Connor and everyone here.  Please, wait until we know we can enter safely.”

Teagan sneered.  “I told you allowing the mage rebellion to stay in Ferelden was a bad idea.”

“Yet, you offered your lands to them.” Alistair added.

“For the very reason we are now in, but just on the opposite side.”  Teagan hissed.  “I offered Redcliffe because the castle was the most defendable place in Ferelden.  I just never expected to be removed from my own residence!”

Cullen knew tensions were climbing too quickly.  He pushed forward with Teagan’s knights before the arl acted irrationally.  He did not want the noble endangering the Herald more than she already was.

Varric leaned against the gate tower with Bianca in his hands.  He seemed relaxed and unfazed.  He heard the horses as the commander approached, readying a bolt in the chamber about to fire.  The dwarf relaxed at the last minute when seeing the blond man.  “Fancy meeting you here, Curly.  You get too worried about Monkey?”

Cullen dismounted his horse, ignoring the dwarf’s raised eyebrow.  “I thought you were to enter the grand hall with Leliana.”

“That passage she mentioned.  It was a little _too_ tight for me, so once we passed into the inner walls I joined a few of her scouts to retake the defenses.  There are a few captured Venatori unconscious around the corner, along with a couple southern mages who were all for the whole servitude thing.  We got them tied up.”

“Any sign of the Herald?”  Cullen questioned, realizing the courtyard was too quiet for his comfort.

“Nope.”  Varric called, his voice wavered a little.  “They should have cleared the hall by now.”

“Solas, stay here with Varric to cover us.” 

Solas dismounted his horse.  “Do not rush, Commander.  This is not the time for nonsensical actions.”

Cullen drew his sword and retrieved his shield from his horse’s saddle.  He ignored the apostate’s warning.  The man gestured to Varric.  “Loose a flaming arrow in the air.  It will alert the king and the arl to proceed.”

“King?”  Varric’s eyebrow popped upwards again.  “As in the King of Ferelden?  Well, isn’t Curly getting chummy with the nobles…”  Cullen threw him a look, causing the dwarf to burst out laughing as he prepared a fire bolt.

 

* * *

 

Nothing would have prepared Cullen for the site he witness once King Alistair, Arl Teagan, and he entered the grand hall.  Evie was covered head to toe in blood and gore as she held her staff’s blade at Alexius’ throat.  Her bright green eyes glowed along with the mark as she glared at the magister with hateful eyes.  Two Inquisition soldiers stood on either side of the Tevinter mage as he hung his head in defeat.

Cullen could felt a strange magic in the air as Dorian grasped a strange amulet in his hand.  The magic was similar to Evie’s mark and the Breach.  The Tevinter mage also looked like he had been through a battlefield, smelling pungent with the lower half of his silk robes colored brown, red, and green. 

Cassandra pivoted on her left boot, surprised to see the squadron of Ferelden foot soldiers marching into the grand hall.  Her brown eyes were big as saucers as she spoke, “Commander?”

Evie looked up, scanning the hall as she pulled her ember magic towards herself.  Her filthy face looked panicked as she stared at the king, arl, and he.  Her bright green eyes locked on Cullen, her mouth gapping as she prepared a spell.

Dorian rushed to her side, gripping her shoulders from behind.  “Evie, calm…this is the present.  Everything is fine.”

The Herald swayed as she bent over.  She dropped her staff and rested her hands on her knees.  Cullen had seen that terrorizing look on Evie’s face before, specifically after she spoke in front of the Chantry and after the archer tried to kill her.  Was she scared of him?  Why?  What happened?!

Cullen held up his hand to stay Cassandra as King Alistair approached the throne.  “Grand Enchanter, imagine how surprised I was to learn you’d given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter magister.”

Fiona walked forward, hanging her head.  She seemed quite surprised to see the king before her.  “King Alistair!”

Alistair’s face was stolid as he spoke, his voice booming off the stone walls.  “Especially since I’m fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan.”

Fiona stammered.  “Your majesty, we never intended…”

It was at this point Evie’s frightened eyes relaxed.  She patted Dorian’s hand on her shoulder, walking from the throne area towards the royal contingent.

“I know what you intended.  I wanted to help you, but you’ve made it impossible.”  Alistair explained as his face softened.  “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

“But…we have hundreds who need protection!  Where will we go?”  Fiona panicked, thinking about her people.

Evie tossed her hand up, joining the group.  Her face was still stern, but Cullen attributed it to her physical condition.  Blood dripped from her nose and lips.  She held her stomach with her left hand.  The commander did not see any signs of battle when he entered, but she appeared to have fought hundreds of soldiers to stand there.

“The Inquisition might be willing to take in the mages.”

Cullen stiffened.  His mind raced with what having the mages under their direction could mean, especially near the Breach.  He knew that was why the Herald went to Redcliffe.  However, they had only spoken briefly on the terms of the alliance, but primarily focused on having their mission work without getting her killed.

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?”  Fiona questioned suspiciously.

“Hopefully better than Alexius gave you.  The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?”  Dorian cooed, approaching Evie from behind.

Cassandra grunted.  “I know you are a mage, but consider how these rebels have acted.  They must be conscripted, not coddled.”  Leliana approached from the left, standing by Cassandra, glaring at the seeker’s suggestion.

“It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer.”  Fiona reserved herself to defeat, hanging her head.

Evie remained quiet for a moment, rubbing her chin as she thought the possibilities through.  “Fiona, you have no idea what I just witnessed.  You placed your supporters under the thumb of one of the most feared countries in Thedas for false protection.”  The mage referenced the kneeling Alexius.  “I saw a world where that simple choice ruined us all.  You interrupted an important meeting of enchanters to push your agenda when everyone was there to discuss reversing tranquility.  You put forth the rebellion with barely more than half support, and the tranquil suffered the most as they were systematically slaughtered.  Fiona, you will spend the rest of your life thinking about how much death you and your followers brought to Thedas.” 

Evie sighed, watching as Fiona hanged in head in shame and disgust.  “However, I know mages will never solve anything as prisoners.  Mages do not know what it means to be a normal person, to be free and have our own choices, to be ourselves without being under constant guard.  We are still essentially children in this world. They cannot be under another’s power.” 

The Herald held her head high as she declared her intention.  “The Inquisition offers an alliance under the agreement that you step down from your position. Instead, there will be a council of mages from each fraternity who will decide as a group the actions of the mage coalition.  You will be the primary contact to the Inquisition, but not the mages’ main leader.  The Inquisition will give you all a safe haven to establish your own lives in this new world.  This will be a transitional period.  That council must respect the Inquisition, especially regarding our connections with the templars who have joined our cause.  Furthermore, possession will be a very high risk near the Breach.  Prepare all the mages for the heighten risk.  If there are some who fear becoming abominations, please let me know and we will adjust accordingly.  Consider this a probation period.  You all must prove you are ready to be adults and respond to your actions and consequences.”

Cullen and Cassandra both grimaced, but Evie’s green eyes glanced at the commander, shimmering.  She knew she was asking a great deal, but also thought of contingency plans.  She added one last statement.  “I am sticking my neck out for everyone because I know what we have been put through.  Do not make me regret this decision.  There is already too much blood on my hands.”  The mage looked at her body and arms, stained with the liquid.

Fiona’s eyes flicked to the seeker and former templar.  “I’ll pray that the rest of the Inquisition honors your promise, then.”

Evie’s eyes remained locked on the commander’s.  “The Breach threatens all of Thedas.  We cannot afford to be divided now.” Evie smiled as she glanced at the king and arl.   “We can’t fight it without you.”  Lastly, her eyes met Fiona’s frighten face.  “Any chance of success requires your full support.” 

Fiona nodded.  “We accept.  It would be madness not to.  I will gather my people and ready them for the journey of Haven.  The Breach will be closed.  You will not regret giving us this chance.”

Evie nodded.  “Fiona, please let the Inquisition know which southern mages embraced the Tevinter servitude.  They shall be imprisoned as well and charged accordingly for their betrayal.  Commander, I do not know why you are here, but please organize with Fiona and the other leaders for their journey to Haven.  Your Majesty….” The Herald curtsy to King Alistair.  The king chuckled at the gesture.  “It will take time to move the hundreds of mages to the village.  Please forgive us if it take longer than a few weeks.  I also ask if you can contain Magister Alexius and any remaining Venatori in your prisons.  Haven does not have the proper facilities to contain these malcontents.  We will work out a transfer and judgement after the Breach is sealed.”

Alistair nodded, impressed by the whole conversation.  “That is only fair.  I think the arl will permit the magister and his men to stay in his prison until then.”

Teagan nodded, although grimace.  “Of course, although we have as much right to the man as you do.  Furthermore, where is my nephew?”

Leliana stepped forward, breaking her silence.  She joined the royal envoy group.  “He is in the left wing of the castle in his old room.  He is safe.”

Evie kept her ground.  “You might reconsider your claim to the prisoner after the story I have to say.”  Her voice wavered as she spoke.

“We’ll see.”

Everyone began moving to the proper tasks.  Cassandra joined the Herald, Leliana Cullen, Alistair, and Teagan.  Sera kicked Alexius in the gut before walking out of the hall towards the entrance.  Her face was angered as kept smacking her hip.  Dorian joined Felix, who was struggling to stay upright.  The Tevinter mage guided his friend out of the hall towards the village.  Fiona marched towards some other southern mages, waving them towards the right hall.  Alistair’s men and Teagan’s knights went to clear the castle of any hostiles.

Evie’s face lightened and gently smiled at the group.  She cupped her hands together and beamed at the king.  Her voice was sweet and childlike.  “Hi Ali…”

Alistair giggled, waving his hand in the air.  “Hi Evie.”

Teagan shook his head confused.  “Alistair, you know this woman?”

Evie tiled her head.  “Sir, the last time you saw me I was covered head to toe in mud…almost like I am now.”

“I was too.  Good ole times.”  Alistair laughed.  “Déjà vu to when you first saw me again, huh Teagan?”

“Evie?  Little Evie?  Maker’s breath…it’s been…?”

“Twenty-two years.”  Evie finished, nodding.  “It was nostalgic walking around the castle.  I preferred it as it is now, not like…ugh.”  She rubbed her temples.

 “Evelyn,” Cassandra called.  “You disappeared.  I was sure Alexius obliterated you!  I called for you and all that was left was ash.  Then, thirty seconds later, you step out of the rift covered in all this blood like nothing happened.”

“I was…” Evie whimpered, closing her eyes.  “Everything…gone…Everyone dead…”

“Now, I’m curious.”  Alistair called, crossing his arms over his leather armor.  “Tell you what, why don’t you all stay here tonight.  It will take some time to clear the castle and we can work together until the mages leave Redcliffe.  Evie, you look like you need a rest.  We can discuss the events over dinner?”

Cullen went to interject, when Evie step forward.  “That would be lovely, sir.  It has been a long time since we have talked, as well as you and Leliana.  Furthermore, what I have to say should be shared between us and my advisors.”

Alistair nodded, noticing Teagan’s antipathy.  “All right.  Just one request, stop curtsying.  You didn’t do that as a kid, and you are freaking me out looking like that!”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck as Evie beamed happily.  Cassandra rolled her eyes as Leliana smiled behind the Herald.  The commander wished for a quick time in the nobility’s company, but it seemed the Herald had other ideas.  However, he was glad to see her happy.  Most of all, he was extremely relieved to see her alive.

For the first time over twenty-four bells, Cullen’s heart relaxed and his mind calmed.  He made it in time.  She was not captured.  Evie was alive and well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Thank you, iduna, for correcting me on Alistair and Cullen's ages. For this story Alistair is 31 (birthday just passed? Maybe? What month was he born!?), Cullen is 30, and Evie is 28. I know I said Cullen was 32 in another chapter, but I can't find it at the moment. How old was Alistair when he was sent to the Chantry? Gotta know to fix something in the next chapter. The point is the men are older than Evie. Alistair and Evie knew each other very young kids. Thank you again, iduna!
> 
> [2] A nod to “Dragon Age:  The Silent Grove.”  I am starting to read the books now.


	21. The King and I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: “Adia” by Sarah McLachlan
> 
> We are nearing the end of Part 1. Part 2 is almost all written in very rough draft form. I enjoy writing this fan fiction and love the feedback. Thank you!

It was late afternoon by the time Evie was alone in her own room.  She recognized the guest bedroom as where her parents stayed when they visited the castle.  Evie and her older sister shared the room down the hall their last trip many decades ago.  Patricia forced her to sleep on the floor since she claimed she was nearly an adult and deserved the bed by herself. 

Teagan had found some of Isolde’s gowns so Evie could change.  The mage was not too thrilled by the wears since the woman was Orlesian.  She hoped that the woman maybe shifted to more Ferelden garments since marrying.  Alas, Evie did not have much choice.  Griffon’s saddle had her older armor, but the mount was still at the Upper Lake Camp.  Sera stated she would bring the horse to town in the morning.  Most of the Inquisition personnel were staying in the tavern for the night, while the advisors and she were housed in the castle. 

The mage refused to go and change until she was sure everything was okay.  There was a part of her that believed her return was a dream.  Although the Venatori had taken down most Ferelden banners, they had not fully changed the castle to the tortures Evie saw in the future.    She had to review the undercroft and see that it was just barracks and cellars, not prisons and torture chambers lined with red lyrium before she addressed her current state. 

Once the search was complete, the Inquisition soldiers who had accompanied Leliana and Cullen were dismissed to assist the mages.  Teagan’s knights and Alistair’s battalion resumed control over the area.  Despite Evie’s assurances, it was evident Teagan was uncomfortable about having foreign forces in his holdings.  Evie argued it was the Inquisition that allowed the arling to not fall to rogue mages and templars, who fed and clothed the arl’s people while he had gone to Denerium, and the only military in the region who could respond quickly if the Venatori launched an attack to reclaim the mages or the castle.  After several conversations, the arl calmed about their presence in the Hinterlands, just as long as Inquisition forces remained outside the village and castle.  The man surely became a bit paranoid since the Blight. 

Evie stood in her personal room for a few minutes, avoiding the mirror so she did not see her condition.  Solas had healed her bruised stomach and scratched eyes, while giving her some detox potions to avoid infections from the future’s sewer water and nasty conditions.  She knew she smelled because every time she went near a soldier, they tried to contain a gag.  Leliana gave her a sack to put her armor to burn later and pointed to her room to bathe.

A metal bath tub filled with water sat by the fireplace so she could wash.  Evie first removed the contents from her trousers and coat, placing them on a dresser so she could clean them later.  She was thankful her mother’s embroidered handkerchief never made contact with the sour water, still white and wrapped in a bag with the silver thimble.  Blooded covered the letters and journals, proof of Alexius’ actions if he had succeeded.  She would provide the evidence to Leliana along with her report.  Lastly, Evie clutched the object she had found on the creature.  It was still covered with blood and barely recognizable in its current condition.  Evie dropped it in the tub water so she could properly clean it while she bathed.

Evie kept her gloves on while she slowly peeled off her coat, placing it in the provided sack, followed by her vest and her boots.  She did not remove the gloves until she was in her tunic and small coats, avoid directly touching her armor as much as possible.  Everything went into the sack.  Harritt was going to be angry once he discovered her new armor was completely useless now.

Once naked, Evie waved her hands to warm the water until it steamed.  She lifted her first leg in, immediately noticing the clear water turning murky as blood, gore, and filthy rinsed from her skin.  The mage placed the other leg in and lowered her body gently down, finally seeing her lightly tanned skin again as the future slowly dissolved away.  She had waited until she was actually in the bath to take down her braids so she could dunk her head under the water immediately.  From Evie’s view of her tangled hair, it was burnt red with dried blood.

His blood.

Evie could not contain the shaking any longer as her defenses crumbled.  Throughout the whole ordeal, she used her anger and determination to keep a level head, sans her breakdown after that battle.  Once she was back in the present, adrenaline kept the tears away.  Every time she saw someone she recognized and their head was still attached to their body, it took her entire willpower not to hug them and cry, but wish them well and walk away quickly.

Evie submerged her head under the water, rubbing the filth and blood away.  She rose, reaching for the wash cloth and orange-clove soap she always kept on her person and scrubbed frantically, nearly ripping her skin open as she sobbed to herself.  She kept the cries low, avoiding someone hearing her meltdown in the hall.  No one but Dorian would understand why she acted that way.  Most of her advisors and comrades celebrated the venture as a success since they now had the mages’ support and took down the Venatori before it was too late.

Too late.  They had no idea how close they were to the end of the world, how close they still were.  Somewhere out there, there was a person called the Elder One who purposely destroyed the Conclave and murdered the Divine.  It must have been the same person who they all saw in the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  They caused the Breach.  Future Cassandra stated that this person and the Venatori opened the hole in the Veil.  Evie knew better to believe that they had snuff out all the Venatori.  There were barely twenty Tevinter mages in the castle.  There was a larger force somewhere, and they needed to find them quickly.  None of them were safe until the Breach was seal and the Venatori were annihilated.

One thought made Evie chuckle about all the madness.  This proved she did not cause the Conclave explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  Most of Evie knew that, but there was a small percentage of her soul who feared the worst, always hearing the voices stating she was a murderer.  She was not Anders.  She had been trying to help since the beginning.

Evie began washing her hair was the soap, seeing the water turn a bright red with each rinsing.  She gagged and sobbed a few times, remembering her constant goring into the creature’s body.  She saw his scar and knew she had killed him, saved him from that nightmare.  Could she write about that in her report?

Could Evie tell Cullen she killed his monstrous self in the future?

Evie’s arms fell into the water as she hung her head.  Her foamy hair fell to the sides of her face as Evie tried to contain the pinching in her chest.  The mage grasped the area between her breast where her phylactery and family signet ring hung from on the gold chain.  The circular object holding the blood vial bobbled between her breasts as she twirled it with her fingers.  She tried to calm down, but she could not bring herself to say his name without sobbing again.  With her other hand, she searched the tub’s bottom for the object she had placed there before.  It was between her legs a few inches from her groin.  She grabbed the object and brought it to the surface so the fireplace’s light could illuminate the gem.  Tears rolled down Evie’s cheeks as she tried to figure out how it existed inside the monster’s body.  It was smaller than the last time she saw it, even if it was the same gem.  Evie was pretty sure it was because of the floating dark matter inside matched her memory.

“You should be in the middle of the Frostbacks…”  Evie whispered as she turned the smooth amber focus stone in her hand.  “You carried all my feelings down the cliff side…yet, you were on his body…and I feel more for him than ever before.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen sipped the wine slowly to avoid having to say anything to anyone in the dining hall.  He already felt out of place inside the castle and without his armor, he felt like he was naked in the middle of a battlefield.  Every so often, he grasped his broadsword hilt, making sure at least he was armed so he did not feel completely out of his comfort zone.  The man never imagined he would go from riding across of Ferelden to stop a Tevinter cult to dining with the king, his uncle, the advisors, and the Herald in one day.

The commander’s body was responding to the heightened stress of the last two days.  He was exhausted with a small pinching headache between his eyes.  However, he was relieved he was there, never stopping since arriving in Redcliffe Castle.  Corporal Vale and Leliana’s scouts were working together, organizing the healthy mages to travel to Haven by the end of the week.  The children and less able mages would make the trek in a few weeks once the Inquisition had carts and supplies ready to assist them.  Cullen had already sent two crows with orders for Captain Rylen to begin constructing more tents and secure more supply to support the more than hundred new people going to the already strained village.

Cullen’s mind continued to think through logistical issues as Cassandra walked towards him.  The seeker kept most of her armor on, except her greaves and gauntlets, proudly displaying her seeker insignia on her breastplate.  She was visibility unarmed, although Cullen knew otherwise.  The woman always had a pair of daggers in her boots if she was ever capture or caught unaware.  She held each blade to his neck during a few sparring practices, as he had his to hers.  The fights never ended with a clear winner.

“Well Commander,” her Nevarran accent kicked with each word. “We have the mage’s support.  Next, the Breach.”

“One thing at a time.” Cullen muttered, bringing his wine glass to his lips again.  “I’m just trying minimize the number of abominations among their ranks.  It’s inevitable.  What was the Herald thinking, making them allies?”

Cassandra groaned.  “I do not know.  They do not warrant the trust, but she is right that one must find their own footing before walking forward.  She seems to have thought this through.”  The seeker shook her head.  “She did what we asked her to do.  We cannot ask for more now.  I am more concerned what happened in those thirty seconds she disappeared from the hall to reappearing looking as she did.”

“What happened before we arrived?”  Cullen had yet to allow himself to think about Evie’s expressions and troubled state.  She refused to go and clean up until the castle was thoroughly searched and everyone was accounted for.  She only left after Leliana escorted her from the hall.

“The ambush worked just as we planned.  Leliana took out the magister’s guards, and he looked like he was going to surrender.  Suddenly, he pulls out an amulet and created a fade rift.  Evie was gone.  I did not have time to response or I would have dispelled the spell or silence the mage.  You entered with the king moments after Evie had reappeared, thrusting her broken staff blade at the man and told him he lost.”  Cassandra shook her head repeated.  “For a second, I thought it was all over.”

“I knew we should have not had risked her life.”  Cullen pinched his nose.

“She is alive and well.  The magister and his men were captured or killed.”  Cassandra reminded the commander.  “The mages will assist us in sealing the Breach.”

“Is _she_ well, though?”  Cullen interjected, staring into the fireplace to his right.  “The woman had the hundred yard stare like a soldier who watched his whole squadron die.”

“Let’s ask her.”  Cassandra cooed, gesturing towards the dining hall’s double doors.

Cullen glanced the direction to see Evie slowly walking in, her bright green eyes studying everything in the room like it would transform.  She had washed, no longer covered in filth and blood from her mysterious excursion.  Her auburn hair was down, except for the braid down the side of her face and over her right ears.  A second, smaller braid rounded the other side of her face and tied with the first behind her head.  The remaining hair was in its natural wavy curly state down her back with a few curls bating against her chest.  Kohl rounded her bright green eyes, but not as thick as she usually wore, while her face was naturally flush.  She was as natural looking as that night in the cabin studying the false templar knife.

The commander was almost taken aback by her gown.  The hunter green velvet whooshed with each step with its long tight sleeves and a v neckline adorned with fennec fur.  The dress brushed the carpet as a small train followed behind her.  As she approached, he noticed the built-in corset keeping the dress tight against her curvy frame.  Cullen’s mind drifted back to that body under the waterfall, remembering the mage was skinny with some muscle tone and little fat.

“Evie?  Maker’s breath!  I barely recognize you without all the grime.”  Alistair laughed, walking away from his conversation with Teagan and Leliana to greet the Herald.

“You know, I can easily go and jump in the mud out back, if it is such a shock.”  Evie thumbed behind her.  Cullen took the moment to drink from his glass so no one noticed his gapping mouth.

“I think what she means is compliment her.”  Leliana cooed, poking the king in the side.  .  “Right, Commander?”

Cullen nearly spit up his wine as the room filled with laughter. 

Alistair coughed, rubbing the back of his head.  “Sorry.  You know what I meant, right?  Right…?”

Evie shook her head, then winked at the king.  “How did you catch the queen again?”

“Everyone asked that in camp for months.”  Leliana giggled, giving Alistair a wink.  “We concluded Astrid hit her head during the Joining, making him irresistible.”

“Hey!”  Alistair whined, facing his longtime friend.  “I would like to have you know that Astrid believes I’m charming.  I make her laugh.”

“Was it with you or at you?” Leliana remarked.

“Ha ha…”

Teagan walked up to the gathered group, bowing his head to the Herald.  “Well, I will be first to say you look beautiful this evening, dear Evie.”

Evie beamed happily.  “Why thank you, Serrah.”  Her eyes scanned the other two men in the room.  “It is nice to be recognized as a lady.”

Cullen scowled as her eyes locked on his.  “I-I would have gotten to it…Just, we were busy, right Alistair?”

The king nodded fast, pointing at the commander.  “Right.  We were just allowing everyone to admire her before we said anything.”

“Right.”

Cassandra groaned, reaching for her wine glass on the table.  “Keep telling yourselves that.”

Everyone took their seats with Alistair at the head of the table and Evie to his right.  Alistair made up for his blunder by helping Evie sit, then Leliana who sat on her right.  Teagan took the other end of the table, leaving Cullen and Cassandra together.  Both warriors just looked at each other, knowing the seeker could seat herself.  If Cullen attempted, she would throw him to the ground.

Evie’s eyes kept scanning the room.  Cullen could tell sitting in front of her she was not admiring it, but more making sure it was actually there.  Her hand shook a little as she pulled her napkin to her lap.  She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them, catching Cullen’s stare.  The mage half smiled before directing her gaze elsewhere.

Evie was not okay.

“How you and Evie know one another, Teagan?”  Leliana asked as a servant filled her wine glass.

“Eamon and I have known the Trevelyans since we were children.  Evie’s grandfather would bring her uncle and father to Redcliffe when they would visit Ferelden.  The tradition continued once Ian had children of his own.” Teagan explained, smiling at Evie.

“We spent several summers here when I was just a small girl as Ostwick was so hot then.”  Evie beamed.  “Usually, I was up a tree or searching the castle for treasures.  I had a curious mind even then.”

“And how is it that every time someone reminds Teagan of who they are they bring up mud?” Leliana quizzed, pointing at Alistair.  “You did the same when we came to Redcliffe all those years ago.  It cannot be coincidence.”

Evie burst out laughing.  “You did that too, Ali?!”

“I said it was déjà vu!”

“Now, I think you have to tell everyone.” Cullen laughed, leaning back in his chair.

By then the servants started bring out the first course.  Evie shook her head as she giggled to herself.  “I’ll tell.  I was six years old.  My family came to Redcliffe after seeing Rian’s templar induction in Val Royeaux.  Lady Isolde had just given birth to Connor about a month before.  Mother wanted to see the new babe.  That day I was in the foulest mood.  Father forbid me from going hunting with he, Teagan, and Eamon.  I always enjoyed playing with the mabari and watching the hunt.  I planned on stealing a horse and riding out to meet the men in the woods.  My sister, Patricia, who was about eleven at the time, caught me in the act.  She harassed me about never acting like a lady, stating real women do not climb trees and go hunting.  I cried and sobbed until out of nowhere a piece of fresh horse manure smacked her across the face.  I look over, and there is this strawberry blond boy, yelling ‘Hey!  You leave her alone!’  Patricia stood shocked, yelling how dare he speak to her like that, going on and on until a clump of mud smacks her other cheek.”

“By the time Eamon, Ian, and I returned, there were three filthy monsters running around the pasture throwing mud at one another.  The only one we somewhat recognized was Patricia because she crying that they ruined her new white dress.  Isolde with baby Connor and Gwen, Evie’s mother, rushed out of the castle, discovering the site at the same time we did.  Evie yells that Patricia started it, causing the mud fight to begin anew.”

“Yeah, Isolde was not too happy about all that.”  Alistair sighed, staring at his meal.  “She used the fight as the last straw.  She refused to have ‘the bastard’ keep running around the castle.  The day after the Trevelyans left, I was shipped to the Chantry.”

“And within a year, I was in the Circle.” Evie added.  “It seems Patricia had the last laugh.”

“I do not know about that.” Leliana grinned devilishly.  “Alistair is the King of Ferelden and you, Evie, are the Herald of Andraste.  Where is she now?”

Evie rolled her eyes.  “An Orlesian count’s wife.”

“See, that’s damnation itself.” Cullen added, winking at Evie who clapped happily.

“Watch your tongue, Commander.” Leliana hissed, causing the whole table to grow silent and eat before getting a dagger to the throat.

By dessert, the table conversation had shifted to the advantages to sword and shield fighting.  Evie and Leliana argued against the style, while the others stated otherwise.  Cullen could tell by Evie’s burning eyes her temper was rising.  Cassandra refused to back down, countering every point the mage stated.  The commander attempted to shift the discussion towards Alistair and Cullen’s time as templar recruits so the two women would not rip each other apart.

“Cassandra, have you sparred with Cullen?”  Alistair asked, taking a bite of his cheesecake.

“Yes, and we never walk away without one of us being blooded.” The seeker commented.  “Our new Grey Warden comrade, Blackwall, wishes to spar, but I do want to hurt the older gentleman.”

“Blackwall?  He was with us this morning, right?” The king glanced at Cullen.  The commander nodded, avoiding speaking with food in his mouth.  “My mentor Duncan mentioned him once.  A skilled Warden.  We Wardens give others a run for their sovereigns.”

“At least Astrid did for you, Alistair.” Teagan reminded the warden at the other end of the hall.

“In Alistair’s defense, Astrid’s sword and shield maneuvers are scary.”  Cullen interjected, noticing Alistair’s pouting face.

“You have met the queen?”  Evie asked, honestly curious.

Cullen immediately froze, not sure how to respond to the question.  Alistair noticed and responded.  “Only briefly during the Blight.  Now, Cullen is a force of nature.  As recruits, I never went back to the barracks without bruises and cuts.”

“I still remind my recruits to use their shield the right way because of you.” Cullen eyed the king, internally thanking the man for directing the conversation elsewhere.

“How was the commander as a recruit?” Evie grinned, leaning back in her chair for the replay.

“A model Chantry boy.”  Alistair groaned as Cullen chuckled a few times.  The commander glanced at Evie, whose eyes twinkled at him.  “He did it all.  Knew all the history, could spar with the older recruits, and even sang in the boys’ choir.  Meanwhile, I am falling asleep in the middle of lessons, getting yelled at by the revered mother, and scrubbing pots.  I would have been the worst templar.”

“You were in the choir!?” Evie laughed.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Cullen asked as the mage could not stop laughing.

“This is coming from the same man who barks orders all day and makes recruits piss themselves.” Evie commented, shaking her head.  “Please tell me, Ali, you have embarrassing stories.”

Both men looked at one another, then at Evie.  “There is _one_ story, but I won’t say which one of us did this.” Cullen stated as Alistair chuckled to himself.

“Now, this is interesting.” Leliana cooed, leaning forward.

“You have our attention.” Cassandra added, looking at the grinning Teagan.

“Well, it was during dinner, and everyone was gathered in the mess hall.” Cullen began, readjusting himself in his chair.  “Everyone in prayer as the revered mother was singing a blessing chant.  When all the sudden, a recruit marched into the hall with a sword, shield, wearing only his small coats.  Everyone stared at him.  He just saluted, recited a passage from the Chant of Transfigurations, pivoted on one foot, and walked right back out as if in full plate mail.  It took a few moments before the mess hall erupts in laughter.  The recruit was forced to scrub pots for at least a month.”

“That’s got to be Alistair.” Leliana suggests.  “I think Alistair did something like that at camp once.”

Alistair chuckled.  “No, that was when Wynne caught me sneaking out of Astrid’s tent during the healer’s watch and Astrid’s mabari, General Bob McBarkson, ran off with my clothes.  I took Astrid’s shield to cover myself, tripped on a tent spike, and fell into Morrigan’s tent.  Nearly got turned into a toad that night…”

“I agree with Leliana.  Cullen would never do something like that.”  Cassandra concurred with the Nightingale.

“I don’t know.” Evie began, tapping her finger against her arm.  “The commander puts on the air that he is perfect, but I don’t fall for it.”

“I guess you will never know, right Alistair?” Cullen sang, shrugging.

“Yup.  We’re not admitting to it.” The king agreed, nodding to his former comrade. 

Chuckles and giggles filled the dining hall as Evie watched the commander closely.  She was smiling from ear to ear with the most relaxed aura.  It felt like ages since Cullen had observed her so calm in his presence.  Her eyes glimmered at him like they were relieved he was there and enjoying the company.  That was what Cullen hoped, at least.

Teagan sighed, shaking his head.  “I apologies for being one to end this fun, but I cannot contain my curiosity much longer.  Evie, what did you mean that you had more reason to judge the magister?  That is what this dinner was about, right?”

Cullen watched as the bright, happy expression disappeared from Evie’s face.  A part of the man wanted to punch the arl for causing the sudden panic in the Herald’s face.  However, Cullen’s own curiosity had grown short throughout the meal.

 Evie sighed, rubbing her temples a few times before speaking.  “Yes, you are correct.  I am glad our meal is over with because this should not be told while eating.  Please keep this information to as few people as possible until we fully understand what it means.”  The mage took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  She held the breath for a few moments before opening her eyes and began speaking.  “As you might not be aware, Magister Alexius experimented with time magic that did not work until the Breach opened.  Today, in the grand hall, he attempted to erase me from existence.”

Cullen’s amber eyes grew wide as Evie studied each person face.  She continued.  “He luckily failed, but he did send Dorian and I one year into the future.  The world…the world was horrible.  The Breach expanded the whole sky.  The future Cassandra informed us that the Venatori and their leader, this Elder One, created the Breach and caused the Conclave explosion.  Once I was gone, they invaded, taking no prisoners.  King Alistair died soon after I disappeared and Empress Celene was assassinated, causing major upheaval, specifically in Orlais.  There was a demon army that crushed any opposing force that tried to reclaim the castle.  Red lyrium…grew from people until their corpses were mined for more.  Almost everyone in the Inquisition was experimented on gruesomely.  Leliana was the only one who was not impacted by the lyrium, but was tortured and abused until she was but a skeleton.  Those still alive sacrificed themselves to send Dorian and I back.”

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen whispered.

“And we are relieved to have to you here, Evie.” The king began.  “It seems we are facing an adversary beyond our imagination.”

“This Elder One aspires to be a god and enter the Black City.” Evie explained as her eyes burned with determination.  Cullen could tell she was no longer the carefree woman she had been during dinner, but the Herald who addressed the advisors just three days before.  “We must work together so nothing I’ve seen becomes a reality.  We have the advantage now knowing this person’s plans, but we do not know who we face or how he will achieve such goals.”

Alistair nodded.  “Well, I can speak on behalf of Ferelden that you have our support.  I don’t want to die, that’s for sure.  We should have an ambassador to the Inquisition, right Teagan?  Someone who could be trusted that will properly communicate our wishes to the order?”

Teagan nodded.  “Yes, but who?  There are few people in the Landsmeet who could fulfill that role properly at this current time.”

Evie held up her hand.  “If I could suggest Connor?  Now that the mages are under the Inquisition’s protection, Connor will be traveling to Haven.  He was resistant to join us, but I feel he is limiting himself because of what he did as a child.  I feel this responsibility might allow him to atone for his past actions.  He needs to forgive himself just as Redcliffe has forgiven him.”

“Would he even agree?” Alistair questioned, thinking about the suggestion.

“I do not see why not.” Evie replied.  “His father is the Seneschal of Ferelden.  He is a true Andrastian who does not want harm coming to his countrymen.  He understands better than anyone else what dark magic can do.  This Venatori leader must be a mage if he claims to raise the Imperium from its ashes under mage rule.”

“We will propose the idea to Eamon, and go from there.” Teagan advised, his face morphing between content and wariness.  “But, you do make a good case in trying the magister.  This is very difficult to believe, time magic and all, but your state when we first entered the hall makes this story a reality.”

“Believe me, Arl.” Evie stated, standing by her claims.  “I would be the happiest alive if I learned that I did not witness my comrades’ heads on pike like grand trophies.”  The mage stumbled to her feet.  “Now, if you excuse me, I need a bit of fresh air.”

“I will follow you.” Alistair called, raising to his feet as well.  The king only beat Cullen to the punch by half a second.  “You don’t learn every day you nearly lost your head.”

Everyone scattered from the table once Evie and Alistair went to the connected balcony.  Cullen remained nearby by the fireplace, only half listening to Cassandra and Leliana speaking with the arl regarding the Inquisition’s mission.  His mind swirled with thoughts, trying to understand what Evie described. 

The commander overhead the arl stating the Herald was somewhat vague.   Cullen knew she keeping the worst to herself, much like a harden warrior who had seen the most gruesome battle.  Evie nearly crackled while she described her account, specifically when she spoke about experimentation.  Her bright green eyes locked on him as she talked about red lyrium, scanning his face.  Did something happen with him?  Is that why she seemed so panicked when she saw him in the grand hall?

The commander could not contain his concern, walking closer to the balcony doors to join the man and woman speaking outside.  Just as Cullen rounded the corner, he stopped, hearing the strain in Evie’s voice.  It wavered as she argued with the king.

“…Is that all you can say for her?”  Evie hissed, stepping forward and staring right into Alistair’s eyes.

“Evie, when she found out, she was devastated!” Alistair exclaimed as Evie threw her hands in the air.  “But you must understand, Grey Wardens do what is necessary to stop Blights.  After we killed the archdemon, it was her duty to recruit new Grey Wardens and push back the remaining hordes.  We almost had another Blight if she had not acted as she did.  You must believe me.”

Evie shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.  “Of course you are going to defend her.  She’s your wife, and she was doing her duty as Warden-Commander, but it does not make what she did right.”

“I am truly sorry, Evie.” Alistair whimpered.  “Rian was a fine man.”

Cullen remembered hearing the man’s name during dinner when Evie was telling her story.  Her family had gone to Val Royeaux to watch his induction into the Order.  The commander also remembered hearing her say his name as he carried her to a healer the day she closed the Breach.  She kept whimpering it.  He did his best to assure her she was safe and that they were heading to Haven to treat her wounds.  His discussion with Leliana and Cassandra came to mind.  The spymaster stated the male heirs in her family dead.  Rian must have been one of her other brothers.

“I-I…I just need to go to bed.”

“Evie, please don’t go angry with me.  I don’t like it when people are mad at me.”

“…I’m…not.   Just…so much has happened…Just, goodnight, okay?”

Cullen only had enough time to step back as Evie walked quickly from the balcony for the dining room doors.  She nodded to everyone quickly, hiding her face from the others in the room.  Alistair emerged from the balcony, rubbing his chin and sighing.  Cullen stepped forward a little to alert the man he was present.

Alistair smirked a little.  “Do you still play chess?  I need a distraction…and some wine.  Wine and chess and cheese.  Lots of cheese.”


	22. Sleepless Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING!  
> Gore and violence at the beginning of chapter
> 
> Very light NSFW at the end of the chapter
> 
> Chapter Song: "Shape of my Heart" by Sting
> 
> I LOVE how this chapter turned out. :)

The dark surrounding landscape had a green hue as the mark pulsed light like a heartbeat.  Evie was curled into a ball on a stone floor, grasping her marked hand closely to her chest.  There were no sounds, only her shallow breaths.  Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, realizing she was wearing her torn Circle robes.  Her free hand held the cloth over her chest to not expose herself.  Her eyes adjusted to her world, seeing shapes of floating beings at the edge of her sight.  It was difficult to discern what creatures lurked in the shadows.

Something rolled towards her from the right, hitting her knee.  She instinctively touched the object, feeling liquid and automatically looking at her fingers.  Blood dripped from their tips.  She tossed her thumb over the object.  As it turned, Cassandra’s face stared back up at her with red eyes and pale white skin.  Evie scooted back away as more heads rolled out of the green darkness like rocks.  They hit her exposed body, covering her with blood and gore.  The beings in the shadows laughed and snarled at their prey.  The last decapitated head broke the blood vial hanging from her neck and landed in her lap.  Evie stared down at it, screaming as she felt her own blood trickled down her breasts. 

The head began to speak, blinking its amber focus stone eyes.  “You failed.  You failed us, mage.  You are worthless, an abomination.  You deserve to die!”

Evie barely had time to react as an executioner’s axe swiped from the green darkness and cut her head clean off her shoulders.  Evie’s eyes watched from her tumbling head as her blood sprayed and crystallized, transforming her body into a red lyrium node.  All she could hear was screams from all the heads laying throughout the stone floor.  The shadows rushed forward to feast on the flesh.

 

* * *

 

Evie grabbed the side of her head as tears gushed from her eyes.  Her brain felt like it was going to explode out of her ears.  The mark pulsed and shocked her body repeated, causing the headache to throb and sting.  She pulled her legs against her chest.  The mage sobbed, touching her neck to make sure her head was still attached to her body.  She looked at her fingers and toes to see if red lyrium grew from her extremities.  Once confirming she was alive and whole, Evie forced her eyes to study where she was to know it was not the green darkness.

The fireplace crackled a little as embers glowed from thick, long log.  A single candle burned on the nightstand in front of her, dripping wax onto its holder.  The mage had tucked herself into a small corner between the dressing table to her right and the wall to her back and left.  She had wrapped herself closely in all the quilts she pulled from the bed, cocooning herself in protection and warmth.  She had a full view of the door and her staff within reach, leaning against the nearby wall. 

The mage peeled the blankets off, feeling the sweat run down her face and back.  She frantically reached for the chain tucked underneath her nightgown, seeing her phylactery still in one piece.  Once that was confirmed, she reached up and grasped the silver thimble on the dresser beside her and started spinning it on her finger to calm herself down.

“It was all a dream…” Evie whispered, slowing her breathing.  “The Fade projected that.  Demons saw your fears and were torturing you.  They never leave you alone.  You are stronger than them.  It was all a dream.”

The mage sighed, slowly closing her eyes as she continuous spun the thimble with her index finger and thumb.  She was sleepy, her body exhausted after a tiring day and terrifying night, but she did not want to dream again.  She had to stay awake.  Her heart could not handle seeing that future again.  The mark responded to the mixed emotions, glowing and sparking every few moments.

Evie realized staying still in the corner was only lulling her asleep.  She pushed herself off the floor and stretched her back and legs, relieving her aches and pains.  She pulled one of the blankets over her shoulders.  Maybe a small walk would calm her soul.

 

* * *

 

The castle was too quiet for the commander.  He grew accustomed to hearing armor rattled by his tent or people talking by the stables in Haven.  Even the Breach’s crackling was a type of unsettling lullaby now.  The fortress’ silence allowed his troubled mind to make up noise.  Thoughts filled his mind every time he closed his eyes.  Cullen should have known he was not going to sleep, he never did.  However, he thought being indoors and not sleeping for over twenty-four bells would lull him into a restful slumber.

Cullen could not think of any time in the last twenty years where there was no noise at night.  He had always shared a room with someone since Branson was born and he snored.  He lived in the barracks as a recruit and later a full templar.  His roommate in Kirkwall was Samson the Addict, who was always coming back to the barracks drunk.  Even as the Knight-Commander after the Chantry explosion, his door was open and he was always dressed to respond to a disaster. 

What should have been a comfort for his tortured soul was a hell that night.  His room’s walls kept crawling inward on him.  His anxiety climbed to new heights as his claustrophobia overwhelmed his senses.  He heard his past demons whispering in his ears.  The strongest voice was Esme Trevelyan, ridiculing him for not protecting his sister.

He should have been there for Evie. 

He should have protected her.

He failed her yet again.

Cullen put on a tunic and his boots and walked out of his room as fast possible.  He needed an open space, somewhere he could breath and hear anything but the voices in his head.  The man picked a direction and started walking, following the tight passages.  Lit wall sconces lighted his way every so often, but they casted shadows that made the corridors feel tighter around him.  He paced faster, hoping around each turn it would lead outside or anywhere that was opened.

The commander was panting now, searching around for any sign for a window.  As he turned left down a hallway, a bit of moonlight shined through a tall stain glass window.  It seemed to be spanning a stairwell to a tower.  It was not ideal, but he had been wandering the corridors for what felt like hours.   He quickened his pace into almost a march to reach the window, telling himself there was an exit and he was no trapped in the maze.

Cullen’s eyes did not catch the first stair as he walked so fast that his boot toe kicked the stair with a _thud._   His eyes were focused on the light in front of the window.  He tumbled to his knees on the first landing, hitting his head against the stone wall.

“Maker’s arse!”

Cullen tossed his head back, holding his forehead towards the voice to see bright green eyes staring down at him from the window seal.  “Maker’s breath!”  He jolted backwards down the landing and on his bum.  Now, his head ached worse than before and he fell on his own bottom in front of someone.  It took a moment for his mind to process what happened as the blur on the windowsill formed into a woman holding a small flame in her head.  Every so often a green light sparked, accenting the woman’s unique jawline and cheekbones.

 “Commander, is that you?”

Cullen mentally slapped himself as his worst fears just came to light.  He had just tripped on a stair, hit his head against the wall, and fell on his bum all in front of Evie.  The woman probably thought he was a moron.

“Yes, Eve…” He grumbled, not realizing he had used her short name.

“I nearly had a heart attack.” The mage called as her small flame shifted to a light green glow with shimmering flecks.  “Do you need healing?”

Cullen huffed once, shaking his head.  All that needed healing was his ego.  He slowly returned to his feet.  “No, I am fine.  I-I could not see where I was going.”

“It looked like you were going to jump out of the window how fast you were marching up the hallway.”  The woman commented.  “I thought it was a mabari about to rip my throat out.”

Cullen chuckled a few time.  “Perhaps.”

“Do you mind if I may light the area?”

Cullen winced in the darkness, only seeing her silhouette in the moonlight.  She was asking his permission because of his stupidity over a month ago.  “Of course.”

A ball of filtered light flicked into the air and hovered between the two insomniacs.  Cullen recognized the spell when he oversaw apprentice classes.  It was one of the first spells mages learned to control their gift.  However, most mages’ candlelights were blue.  Evie’s was a warm, soft orange to his aching eyes.  As the man approached, it closed the distance between the two people automatically until it lifted up the stairwell, illuminating the whole tower.  Its glow reminded Cullen of the soft lights in his childhood Chantry and the Herald looked like one of the Andraste statues.

“Are you lost?” Evie asked with her head tilted to the side.  Her hair was down into a single loose braid.  Curly ends peaked out from the woven pieces as her long bangs cupped the right side of her face.

“Just on a walk.  I am not used to the quiet.”  Cullen admitted, leaning against the adjunct wall.  “I have been living out of a tent for months.  This should be welcoming to me, but…just cannot turn off my mind.”  He did not know why he was being so open.  He should keep his troubles to himself since the Herald was dealing with so many problems at the moment.

Evie nodded, curling her lips a little.  “You are constantly moving, always planning ahead.  You’re probably have three plans in place on how to avoid abominations in Haven.”

Cullen sighed.  “That too.  Am I that predictable?”

Evie’s grin grew a little more.  “You might have left the Order, but you will always be a templar.  You must be angry with my choice to ally with the mages, not conscript.”

“Is that what is keeping you up?”  Cullen did not want to talk about the mages, the Breach, or anything to do with the Inquisition at the moment.  That is all they ever spoke about.

“I told you I do not sleep.”

“And I see you passed out in the most random places.” Cullen informed with one eyebrow peaked.

Evie did not move or speak to the fact.  She just glanced out the stain glass window.  “The Fade haunts me.  The demons are easy to recognize.  I know their games because that is a mage’s life, my life.  However, the Fade reflects my thoughts and feelings, projecting them and forcing me to watch.  In the end, I am my own worst enemy.”

Evie’s statement held true for Cullen as well.  The desire and misery demons were his projectors, taunting and baiting him to give in every night.  Before he falls asleep, it is his thoughts that haunt him, just like that night.  He knows he is not dreaming yet, meaning he is not in the Fade.  Yet, it drives him insane.

“How do you handle demons?” Cullen asked, honestly curious.  “I understand that mages have many techniques to keep from being possessed.”

Evie grimaced, her eyes turning into silts.  She studied him looking for his question’s intention.  “Depends.  The easiest one for me is that they smell _off_ , especially when they are trying to look like someone in your memory.  Most desire demons smell like old lady perfume and stomach acid.  Others smell like burnt toast or a nug.”

“A nug?”

The mage’s nose wrinkled as her eyes flicker.  “My sister had a pet nug for the longest time.  It would never die.  It loved peeing on my bed and pooping in my riding boots.  It torn up my belongings to the point everything in my room was off the floor and in special boxes.  By the time I went to the Circle, I did not own that much because it ruined everything.  Your sense of smell is your strongest sense to remember memories.  As an apprentice, I equated demons to bad smells.  Burnt toast to rage demons, tainted Warden Whiskey to pride demons, and so on.  By the time I took the draught of lyrium for my Harrowing, I had triggered my mind and heart to sense those nasty smells quickly so could catch the demon off guard and slay it.”

“Does the mark make it worse?” Cullen nodded towards the sparks flying around her hand.

Evie tried to hide the green glow under the blanket over her shoulders, looking away.  “It hurts…keeps me awake sometimes.  Mostly, it opens my thoughts to more vivid dreams…, or should I say, nightmares.”

Cullen hung his head, kicking the step a little with his boot.  “We, as in the advisors, do not account for how all of this impacts you, myself especially.  We never ask you what you carry alone.”

“I also don’t really talk about it.” Evie added.  “As a noble, you are taught to keep your real feelings buried.  After I lost those who I trusted and care about, I had no one to speak to, let alone tell my thoughts or feelings.  I built walls, saying I am trying to protect someone when I am actually trying to protect myself.”

Cullen hung his head, remembering he was partly at fault she had been alone for many years.  From the tone of her voice earlier, her other brother Rian was also dead.  She spoke about her sister in a negative light at both dinner and just then.  The remainder of her family were nobles who were either templars or Chantry members.  She never spoke about friends at the Circle.  This woman was truly alone.

Few moments past silently as Cullen racked himself over coals for causing so much pain to someone who was already isolated.  By the time he pushed the thoughts aside, he lifted his head and noticed tears slowly running down her eyes.  “Eve?”

The mage look more towards the stain glass, hiding her face from his eyes.  The candlelight spell dissipated, most likely by her doing.   The tower was dark again except for the moonlight that accented her facial silhouette.  The light glimmered off the fallen tears.  She started to shake.

“Eve, talk to me?”

The woman squeezed her eyes tightly.  “Why do you always see me crying?”

“I have seen you many ways.  Angry.  Mischievous.  Happy.  Mostly angry.”

“But, always crying.” Evie’s voice lowered as she wiped some tears away.  “You probably think I am weak.  The ‘Herald of Andraste,’ the baby who cries over everything.  Some fabled hero.  I cannot even protect myself when I should be the strongest of all.”

“No, I don’t actually.” Cullen stepped forward, closer to the window.  “I will admit I misjudged you in the beginning.  I thought here was this sheltered Circle mage from some noble family who was going to snob her nose and try and take over everything.  You are none of those things.  You are rational, put others before yourself, and determined.  You don’t act better than others, actually discount yourself more than you give credit.  You might be weaker now, but you are trying.  You are getting stronger each week, taking on more than anyone else could handle.  Maybe why I always see you crying is because I am present when the worst has happened.”

Evie remained silent for a few moments.  Cullen saw more tears fall from her eyes as she attempted to keep whatever was eating at her inside.  He waited, not sure if he should leave her alone or remain if she needed him.

“I had to kill you.”  Cullen’s amber eyes grew big by her statement as the tears dripped from her chin.  “Almost everyone was experimented on in some form.  Varric was crazy.  Cassandra was forced to swallow red lyrium.  Leliana was a walking skeleton used for tissue samples.  You…” The woman rubbed her eyes with her sleeves.  She could not bear looking at him.  “You were the last captured.  You led all the assaults against the castle, already knowing it was foolhardy.  They had to tie you down and forcedly inject red lyrium into your body.  The results…”

“Eve…You don’t-“

“-Please.”  She held out her right hand, still not looking.  “I am going to have to write it in my report, and I just wanted you to know first.”

“I see.”  Cullen whispered, stepping a few more inches closer to the windowsill.

“…We were searching the castle for Alexius’ generals so we could access the grand hall.  I noticed Red Sera and Cassandra getting nervous.  I thought it was because of the Elder One until…this massive creature or abomination lumbered around the corner, dragging an oversized red lyrium great sword.  Red Varric said it was you, one of Alexius’ finest creations.  Your face…it was disfigured from all the red lyrium and metal sticking out of your body.  We had to pass and I…”  Evie paused, ducking her face below her arms that rested on her knees.  After a few seconds, she lifted it, showing her puffy red eyes and flushed faced.  She stared right at Cullen as the man stilled himself from reacting.  “I set you ablaze with a firestorm.  I never successfully cast the spell and you were my ‘test dummy.’  I-I stabbed you repeatedly with my staff, first in the face, then in the chest until you fell over…until you were dead.  That blood?  Those guts all over my hair and my armor…that was all you, and I did that!  The nightmarish actions committed by a mage!”

Sobs escaped Evie as the tears flowed like rivers.  Cullen could not stand and watch her pour her sorrow out for her actions, stepping forward and allowing the woman fall against his shoulder.  Just like on the lake, she fit perfectly in his arms.  He grasped her closely.  Yet, unlike the times before, the man only wore a tunic, allowing Evie’s face to bury so close to him.  He felt each tear as it wet his tunic and her fingers gripped the cloth.  Her body felt light in his grasp, only feeling bone and some muscle in his callused hands and muscular arms.

Evie’s knees remained on the windowsill as Cullen gripped her closely to his person, holding the mage up.  Her face turned into the crock of his neck and shoulder.  The sobs subsided, but tears continued run down her cheeks and landed on his collar.  He shifted his right hand to support to her head, digging his fingers into her hair.  Loose wavy curls batted against his face as he took a deep breath, oranges and cloves, her soap. 

It was the first time something felt so right to the man.  Even with Maya, everything felt wrong or off.  It might have been the situation he and his former love had been in, but nothing like that applied here.  A part of him believed if he did die tomorrow, he could at least have this moment to reflect on.  She belonged in his arms and so close.

Cullen’s mind raced with ways to sooth the woman in his arms.  Each tear he felt trickle through his tunic was a tear too many.  He could tell her he no longer takes lyrium.  No, this was definitely not the moment to unload that baggage and all it entailed on her.  There was nothing comparable to what she committed except his regrets cutting down mages in Kirkwall.  Cullen sighed, breathing in her scent a few more times and just letting whatever come out of his mouth.

“I know that was difficult for you, Eve.”  He whispered into her ear.  “But, if that did happen, I know that I would want you to put me down.  You said it yourself.  That was a monstrous creature, not me.  I would never want to become that.  However, I will do everything in my power to not let that future come.  I will never put you in such a position again.”

“I will become stronger.  I will not cry any longer, but fight until the bitter end to avoid that world from taking shape.”  Evie whispered into his neck.  Her lips brushed his stubble skin.

Then the moment was gone.  Evie loosened her grip on his tunic.  He released the woman from his grasp, allowing her lean back and sit on the windowsill.  Her face was flush, wiping away the tears still on her face, but her eyes burned with a new determination he never thought could increase.  She sat on her feet, searching for the blanket that had fallen from her shoulders and laid on the sill.

That was when Cullen realized it.  Evie only wore a nightgown, a thin cotton long sleeve gown that tied in the front.  In the moonlight, the man saw her body’s outline through the thin fabric.  Her breast were unbound and hung just slightly under the cloth.  The commander took a step back, trying to disguise his burning red face in shadow.

Evie gripped the blanket behind her with her left hand, more focused on Cullen.  “Thank you, Cullen.  I needed to say those words aloud.  I know what I need to do.  I assure you, you will not see me so weak and broken.  I will show you I can be anything but.”

 _You never were_.  Cullen thought, squeezing his eyes tightly.  He saw her scars.  He knew why she was alone.  Out of anyone he had ever met, Evelyn Trevelyan was the strongest fighter in Thedas.  She would now just show it on the battlefields to come.

Cullen saluted her with his fist over his heart.  “And I will glad follow you and command your armies, my Herald.”


	23. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now trying to post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday!  
> Anyone recommends a particular artist who does fan art? I would like to commission some art of Evie. :)
> 
> Chapter Song: "Elements" by Lindsey Stirling
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

A grin stretched across Cullen’s face.  His back was straight, while his gloved hands laid in his mantle coat pockets.  He did not have a migraine.  No nightmares appeared during the previous night.  His full attention was upwards as Cullen’s amber eyes stared at the Breach.  By that time tomorrow, the hole in the Veil will be gone.

And Evie’s current woes will end.

A small part of the commander ached that something may happen to her during the sealing.  However, after seeing her resolve for the last week, he felt it was unlikely.  There was a new fire in her eyes that showed she was more determined than ever to fulfill her mission.  The mage would do everything in her power to survive and discover what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  Everyone noticed her tenacity immediately as she walked with her head held high and marching that drew all’s attention.  Her energy and magic resonated, fueling the Inquisition’s members and troops to do their best. 

For example, the next morning after their late night conversation by the castle windowsill, Evie requested an update on any pending matters.  Reports from Redcliffe Village stated moving the mages to Haven was going to take longer than anticipated.  It meant that she had some time before the final assault against the Breach.  News reached them that the Orlesian envoy was almost at the Redoubt, passing many faithful templars already leaving the castle for Haven.  They were led by Ser Barris, the templar that questioned the lord seeker in Val Royeaux.  The Free March mages and templars arrived safely to the hamlet.  However, Bull’s Chargers were held up in the Ferelden’s lowlands near Fallow Mire because of Avvar ambushes.  The Iron Bull received word from Scout Harding that the missing squad had been captured by an Avvar chief’s son who wished to challenge the Herald.

“I’ll leave within the next bell.” Evie’s voice rang throughout the dining hall.  “We need every able person for the Breach, and I will not lose any more men.  We have already lost too many.”

Leliana’s wrinkled her nose.  “Evie, we haven’t lost anyone in a while.  What do you mean…?”

Cullen picked up the waver in Evie’s eyes as she stared at the spymaster.  The mage still struggled with the dark future she had witnessed.  “I-I think the Herald means those we lost fighting the Breach three months ago.  She did vow she would minimize causalities since that moment.”  The former templar winked at Evie.  She briefly smiled at the man.

“In any case, I will not abandon them.”  Evie stated.  “I will take Dorian and Varric with me.  Send word to Vivienne in Haven to meet us at the forward camp.  I want to see how the loyalist hag handles swamps.  Should be quite a show, and I need a laugh.  Alert Iron Bull to meet us there.  I believe Krem is more than capable to lead the Chargers at the Redoubt.  I need Iron Bull at the moment.”

Cassandra grimaced.  “I would prefer to go instead, Herald.  I still do not trust that Tevinter mage.”

Evie shot her one of her flaming dagger glares.  “No.  You need to assist the commander with the mages.  You stated yourself they cannot be trusted, so I am trusting _you_ in making sure everything is okay.  Furthermore, I know I can trust Dorian.”

Cassandra’s lip twitched.  “His mentor-“

“What do you actually think of me, Cassandra?”

Cullen and Leliana traded glances.  It was the first time that Evie has ever called the seeker by name.  It surprised the Nevarran as much as it did the other two advisors.

“I find you to be too assure of everything, stuffy even.  You cannot be serious when even your own life is at stake.” Cassandra hissed back, making fists with her gloved gauntlets.

Evie chuckled, rolling her eyes.  She leaned back in her chair.  “And your flaw is pride.  You cannot say what you actually think because you do not want anyone to think you weak.”

Cassandra glared at the woman.  “Do you know something I do not, Trevelyan?  You act like you know my own thoughts.”

Evie met her gaze.  “I do not want you to regret anything.  I do not want you to think you failed.  I hoped to clear the air between us and give you a chance, but your pride is making it impossible.  I guess it is true that you do not know what you have until it is lost.”

Evie’s tone was similar to the night before when she was telling Cullen she was forced to run him through.  The mage stood up from her seat, glancing once at the commander before she turned away.  “I am leaving for the Mire.  I will see you in a week in Haven.  We will end this.”

Cullen watched as she pushed open the dining hall’s doors and walked away with both fist swaying by her sides.  Her bright green eyes in that short exchange told him everything he needed to know.  The Future Cassandra had told her something that the mage hoped the present Cassandra would admit.  Evie did not want something to wait until it was too late.

“That woman is impossible…” Cassandra muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“No, Cassandra,” Cullen huffed.  “I think she was giving you an opening, one that you wasted.”

The seeker blinked a few times surprised by the man’s assessment.  Leliana beamed beside him, chuckling a little.  “Either the commander is learning body language or he knows more than he lets on.”

“More that Evie does not want to regret anymore.” Cullen commented, wishing to keep their exchange by the windowsill to himself.  “She carries a great deal on her own shoulders because she has no one she trusts.  I believe she wants to change that, but that cannot be done unless the other person is willing to be open as well.  That’s all I meant.”

Cassandra grimaced, looking away from the two people.  Leliana simply shook her head. 

Cullen never meant to anger the seeker, only have the advisors realized there was more to their Herald than they imagined.  He was not sure about the history between the two women, but it brought Evie a great deal of mistrust and wariness.  During that short conversation, the mage drew a line in the sand, allowing Cassandra the opportunity to change their relationship.

Maybe that is why Cullen was smiling at the Breach that afternoon.  Evie wanted to move on and do something with herself.  She wanted to improve, which included learning to trust the people around her despite it being extremely difficult.  That is why Cullen decided while she was away to clear the air between the two of them.  He would to tell the mage his role in her brother’s death and his lyrium withdraw.  He believed it will present his guilt and his own personal goal to atone for his wrongdoings.  It will be difficult at first, but Evie seem she did not want the past to define her future.

A future that hopefully included him.

The commander looked to his left towards the valley’s edge, hearing booming and calls from over the canyon.  He remembered that morning a group of the Herald’s comrades following her over the ridge towards the small frozen lake.  He glanced at Iron Bull’s tent, noticing both the Qunari and his second were not present.  Were they still there after so many bells?

Cullen called to the on-duty captain in the training’s grounds he was going to a walk.  He made sure to collect his shield from his tent and started his journey.  Unlike that bitter cold night, he was not huffing and puffing, searching for breath.  The climb was a great deal easier, possibly because he was sleeping more soundly or that his mind was not as panicked.

As Cullen walked, he thought back to his earlier mistakes with Evie.  He wanted to explain why he acted as he did by the lake.  He desired to make her understand his stance regarding his adverse behavior without giving away too much about his inner thoughts.  The man still could not bring himself to address his inner demons behind that locked and barred door in his mind and heart, but if she asked about his comments in Kirkwall, how would he respond?

The commander crested the hill that led out of the valley and overlooked the small frozen lake.  There were at least a dozen people surrounding the area, most were part of the Bull’s Chargers.  Cullen could see Evie surrounded by the mercenaries with a quarterstaff in hand.  Bull stood in front of her, directing his troops.  On the hillside, Dorian, Sera, and Varric stood by a roaring fire in the same spot he had settled when Evie was balancing her magic.

The commander meandered towards the two rogues and mage waiting along the hillside.  From a short distance, he could see them trading a bottle of liquor between them as they watched the practice below.  Cullen’s eyes shifted to the mage encircled by the troops.  Evie was only dressed in a tunic and leather pants.  She wore a pair of knee-high bottles, but no gloves or coat.  Sweat poured from her brow and down her neck.   Her hair was soaked with perspiration tied in in a long ponytail high on her head.  She utilized her scarf to wipe away the salty liquid from her face and chest, almost showing her Qunari wrapped breast band.  Afterward, she wrapped her long haired horsetail around itself and then used the bandana to keep it out of her eyes.

“Hey, Curly.” Varric called, holding up the liquor bottle.  “Wanna taste?  Monkey is sharing her extra bottle of Dragon Piss she found in the Mire.  Shitty stuff, but we can’t tell her that.”

“It is free booze, yeah?”  Sera called, taking the bottle from the dwarf.  She gulped a few times.  “Better than freezing out in this shat.”

“The woman must know better liquor than that.” Dorian huffed with his hands tucked inside his new robes.  “She is nobility.  It is already a waste she hates red wine, but to believe that swill is delicious is a sin.”

“You have been out here all day.” Cullen commented, glancing over his shoulder towards the small lake.  “Shouldn’t the Herald be resting for tomorrow?”

“You tell her that.”  Varric laughed.  “The woman’s been non-stop since Redcliffe.  I heard Tiny couldn’t even get her to stand during earlier training sessions.  Now, she is a dwarven drilling machine that won’t stop.”

Cullen eyed the scene below closely.  As a gust of wind blew up the ridge, he noticed numerous embers and ash follow as the mage gathered her magic closely.  “Has she been casting?”

“No.” Dorian replied, shivering a little.  “She is just using her magic to study herself before the next round.”

“She says she can’t prepare properly without hearing her violin.” Varric added, eying the commander to his left.

Cullen was taken aback.  “Her violin?”

“All mages draw from the Fade differently.” Dorian explained.  “I myself looking for the beautiful colors.  They dazzle me just like my handsomeness.  There is sometimes spells make sound, but I see color more.”[1] The mage cooed, grinning happily.  “Evie hears a symphony, and her violin plays a solo among the music.  She can’t ‘dance’ without it.”

More questions rose to Cullen’s mind, but before he could inquire, Dorian referred the scene below.  “They’re starting again.”

Cullen stilled himself as everyone’s attention focused at the frozen lake below.  Instinctively, he grasped his hilt and drew his shield from his back.  Varric noticed, shaking his head and laughing before gulping some more booze.

Evie was outnumbered six to one as she stood with her feet one in front of the other and her staff tucked behind her.  She lifted her left arm over her hand, the mark sparking as she collected her magic.  Soft orange and yellow embers gathered around her, swirling as she waved her hand around, grasping at the magic.  She brought it out in front of her.  Her eyes flashed open, burning brightly even from Cullen’s position.

The mage nodded as Bull nodded at his men.  Immediately, a rogue dashed forward with both knives drawn.  Evie dodged right as he reappeared behind her, pivoting on one foot allowing the man to fall forward.  She hit in across the back and swiped his legs with her staff.  Krem lunged from her left, unguarded at the moment.  She kneeled as he swiped his sword at her neck.  The mage kicked him away against his shield, sliding across the ice out of his range.

Cullen noticed then that she was using a quarterstaff and that it did not have a blade.  Everyone else had sharp real blades as they tried to put her down.  “She is defenseless against them!”

Sera, Dorian, and Varric burst out laughing, nodding to each other like Cullen had made a joke.  Varric nodded at the former templar as the man struggled not to run and protect her.  “Curly, she insisted.  She did not want to be coddled.  In the Mire, she and Tiny were head-to-head constantly, training any time they were not fighting undead.  I thought the same until she penned him in hand-to-hand combat a few days ago.  Damn good show too.  The aim for her to get the opponent on their back or stomach.  If you get hit, oh well.  She will thin them out here.”

The Dalish mage that they always called an archer tried to sweep Evie’s leg, but she jumped away, side kicking herself in a half circle.  Once she landed, she used her momentum to bat her staff at her knees on her back.  The Fereldan name Grim came thundering forward, locking his greatsword against the mage’s quarterstaff.  They pushed back a few times before Evie released, allowing the greatsword to hit the ice.  She spun in a circle, knocking the man in the chin with the staff onto his bottom.

Evie must have heard Krem’s armor because she pirouetted and kick herself in the air off his shield again.  She aerial over the man, landing on her feet and swiped her staff at his feet.  Krem step forward to avoid the attack, kicking snow at his opponent.  The mage continuously dodged and weaved from his sword and shield until she could flank him again.    She rolled head over feet, coming up and twirling her staff around her neck until the end slapped the soldier’s nose and startled him.  She finished him off with a bat to his breastplate.

“Limber, isn’t she?”  Dorian grinned, watching as the mage skipped across the ice towards her next opponent.  “Imagine that in the bedroom.”

Varric chuckled.  “A man’s dream!”

Cullen blushed a little as the mage bent and contorted her body in multiple directions to avoid being slashed or hit.  His mind wandered to the multiple times he had seen Evie using her magic.  She always looked like she was waltzing or floating over a dance floor.  He shook his head, trying to remove all the lustful images from his mind.  “That is no way to speak about the Herald.”  He thundered, using his mantle to cover his pink cheeks.

All three people burst out laughing again.  Sera was pointing, shaking her hair so that her string blonde hair batted against her rosy cheeks.  “She ain’t shy about her tricks!  She always going on about her peach and shite.”

“You should have heard her taunting Tiny during their hand-to-hand fight.” Varric chuckled, noticing how uncomfortable the commander was becoming.  “She would whisper some naughty thing in his ear and nearly caused him to burst.  The rain didn’t help either as her clothes stuck to her body.  That’s how she won the whole thing.  The blue brute disappeared into the woods for a good two bells after that!”

“If that is what your Circles were like,” Dorian began.  “Maybe they are not so bad after all…”  The glimmer in the Tevinter’s eyes almost caused Cullen to punch him.  Every time he looked at the olive skinned man, he was always touching Evie at the small of her back or whispering into her ear.

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen muttered, pinching his nose.

“We’re up, Buttercup.”  Varric called as Bianca unfolded in his hands.  He loaded a clip of bolt into the chamber, pointing the crossbow down at the lake.

Evie was standing alone with Bull nearby as a streams of arrows loosed through the air at the mage.  Cullen held his breath as she skipped backwards, twirling her staff to block the missiles.  As the last clip skipped out of Bianca’s chamber, Evie sent a fireball into the air and burnt it to ash before it reached her face.  She smirked at the rogues on the hill before turning to the Qunari approaching her.  The other mercenaries by now were on the lakeshore, addressing their new wounds.

Cullen’s heart jumped up into his throat as the large Qunari swung his great axe into the ice, sending a crack racing through to the Herald.  Evie skipped several times avoid the crack and the breaking ice.  Huge chucks of ice splintered across the surface.  The mage jumped from each piece towards her target who was close to the shoreline.  Her agility was evident as she watched the chucks bobbed in the water, knowing when to jump and act.  She kept swiping at the Bull, knowing she was going to have to pass him to make it to safety

Cullen step forward, but he almost ran Varric over as the dwarf blocked his path.  He kept side stepping and blocking the commander’s way.  He placed Bianca on his back and waved his hand.  “Whoa, Curly.  Relax.  We taught her to swim.”

“Wait, she didn’t know how to swim!?” Cullen hollered, truly kicking himself that night a month before.  Of course she would panic if she thought she was drowning.

“She asked us to show her the basics.”  Dorian called, walking towards the panicked templar.  “How that woman could swim in a bog is beyond me.  Every time she kicked and doggy paddled, new undead rose from the water.  She would set them on fire and continue with her lesson.”

“She’s fine, yeah?  Look!”

Cullen’s amber eyes shifted back to the lake, watching as Evie pushed herself off a chuck of ice, bobbling upwards.  She held her feet towards the Qunari’s chest, knocking the man over into the icy water with her momentum.  She flipped in the air, landing on the lake shore with a perfect dismount.  Her arms stretched out in front of her as she beamed proudly.

Iron Bull stood up in the water, showing he was close enough to shore when the mage knocked him over.  He coughed a few times, laughing as Evie continuously bowed and waved to her former opponents.

“Let’s do it again.”  Evie sang, walking around the lake.  Her hand shifted from a soft green flow to blue white to refreeze the lake.

“That’s enough for today, Boss.” Bull exclaimed, noticing his Chargers were barely standing and sweat profusely. 

Evie stopped, pouting and putting her hands on her hips.  Her staff was still in her right hand.  “Come on.  We have only done it ten times.”

“You have a long day tomorrow.”  The Qunari called, smacking her in the back as he walked towards his men.  “Go clean up and relax.”

“No, I should’ve put Krem down the first time.  He got back up when I should have eliminated him.” Evie criticized, following behind her trainer.  “It was sloppy and could have gotten someone killed.”

Cullen started hearing the argument as Evie followed the Qunari towards the fire.  Her requests and rough training now made sense.  She was pushing herself so no one would die.  She vowed to him that night in Redcliffe Castle she will get stronger and never allow the future to come.  She was pushing herself to avoid being the weak herald she believed she was.  All that pride and hope the commander held slowly disappeared as he understood that fire in her eyes. 

Evie was petrified.

 

* * *

 

Varric never imagined at that time of night seeing the woman flopped down beside him.  Most of the tavern had cleared for an early night.  Most usual patrons were ordered to support at the Breach’s sealing in the morning.  The woman beside him was supposed to be at the center of it all, but by the smell of her breath, she might not even wake up until next week.

The mage slid a flagon towards the dwarf at the end of the table as she took another swig from her bottle.  Varric learned quickly the Herald preferred Antivan tequila, usually having a bottle in her saddlebag for each expedition.  By its slushing, she was two-thirds done with her current one.

Evie barely cleaned herself since training earlier.  She washed the sweat and grime from her person, but her hair was unkempt, fluffing out of her head like a sea creature.  She wore a loose tunic and her lower rogue pants, forgoing her scarf, vest, and coat.  The low light hid her unwrapped breast from sight.  She had complained about the Qunari wrap when they first began sparring.  It cut into her shoulders and pulled her bosom in strange directions.  From Cullen’s adverse reactions when they joked about her vulgar taunts, he would greatly approve of the current view.

Varric glanced inside the flagon, smelling scents he had not tasted in years.  “Orzammar Taster’s Tavern secret brew…This must have cost you a hefty amount of gold.”

“Thank my father…” Evie whimpered, gulping her shot.  She shook her head a few times as her liquor burned the back of her throat.  “Flissa has a barrel just for you behind the counter.”

“And what do I owe this gracious gift?” The dwarf cooed, one eyebrow perked.

“I’m ready to ask my questions.”

The tavern’s sober mood overwhelmed the dwarf as he registered what the woman meant.  She was ready to ask about Kirkwall.  He truly thought she would not approach him after seeing her sorry state finishing _Tale of the Champion_ and her broken attitude after visiting her great-uncle. 

“May I ask why now?”

“I might die tomorrow.  Don’t want any loose ends.”  She remarked, pouring another shot.

“It might distract you instead.”

Her glazed eyes stared at the rogue.  Her cheeks and lips drooped as the alcohol controlled her facial muscles.  “Fuck it.  Fuck it all.”  She swallowed the shot right afterwards.

Evie was using the liquor as liquid courage to get through the conversation.  He might as well get started before she passed out.  He did not need the seeker yelling at him in the morning for a drunk Herald. 

Varric took a swig of the beer, tasting dirt and minerals in its bitter mixture, but damn was it good.  “Shoot.”

Evie sighed, slowly closing her eyes a few times.  “What happened to all of Hawke’s friends?  You’re here because Cassandra dragged you across the Waking Sea.  What about the others?”

Varric sighed, taking another gulp of the beer and allowing the foam to tickle his lips.  “Merril stuck around, helping the elves in the alienage.  I guess she had plenty of practice avoiding human battles with her old Dalish clan.  Fenris kept himself busy, hunting down the Tevinter slavers who came south to prey on the refugees.  I’m not sure exactly where he is at the moment.  You can usually follow the trail of corpses, though.  Isabela went back to the Raiders.  She’s calling herself an admiral now.  I don’t know if she’s actually in charge or just has a really big hat.  Might be the same thing, honestly.”

“After she took one of my father’s Man O’ Wars, she better be in charge, the bitch.  I loved that ship.” Evie muttered, staring into the fireplace behind the dwarf.  Varric determined it was the liquor talking more than the mage.  She was saying anything that came into mind.

“Sebastian went back to Starkhaven.  I’m sure he’s boring all sorts of people there.”

“Father tried to get Patricia to marry into that family.”  Evie poured herself a new shot.  “Except Patricia prefers getting tickled in the inside.  Her celibate for the rest of her life?  That’s hilarious.”

“Hawke’s brother Carver is still in the Free Marches, helping the Kirkwall guard keep order.”  Varric purposely paused to allow the drunk mage make her comment.

“He’s a templar.  That’s a lost cause.”

“Aveline is still guard-captain.  I’m pretty sure Kirkall would fall into the sea is she quit her job.”

“Woman deserves a goddamn medal.”

Evie glanced the dwarf, waving her hand like he was expected to say more.  Varric shrugged.  “That’s it.”

The mage grimaced, shooting her drink.  Her face morphed in multiple shapes as if she was going to have to talk for him.  “What about the fucker who blew up everything?  Your book left that out.  The sonofabitch started this whole war I’m cleaning up.  Where is he?”

Varric sighed, taking his time to finish his flagon as he struggled remembering Blondie.  Throughout his travels with Hawke, Blondie and Elf bickered and fought for the woman’s affections, never accounting the pain both of them caused her.  After Fenris dumped her in bed, Anders had his shot.  Hawke slept with him as a rebound, but immediately regretted it.  The Champion had several ‘regrettable’ flings, usually after major life-changing choices or she was shit on by Kirkwall.  Her heart was still hooked for Fenris, who won her back after a few years.  Last time he heard anything about his old friend, she and Fenris were cutting through anyone who challenged them in the Free Marches.  As for Anders, her rejection just fueled the abomination, thus why he convinced her to ‘find a cure’ and used Hawke to blow up the Chantry.

Hawke should have stabbed the idiot.

“Hawke made him stay to help put out the fire he caused.  But eventually moved on.  Nobody else wanted him in Kirkwall.  I don’t know where he is now, and I don’t want to know.”

Both people sat quietly for a while.  Varric tried to push back the nightmare he witnessed in his home time.  A part of him was glad Cassandra dragged him across Thedas.  He was not sure if he could stay after Hawke up and vanished.  All the elemental apostate said was ‘I gotta get out of here.  Too many ghost hammering on the door.  Wine cellar key is under the hallway mat.  Don’t tell Fenris.’

“The bastard killed my brother…”

Varric glanced up from his empty flagon.  Evie’s bright green eyes glittered as tears pooled, smearing her kohl.  “He took him from me because he hated…he hated who wore the armor.  He never asked why people were templars.  He didn’t care.  Esme…”  Evie used her sleeve to wipe away the snot running out of her nose.  “…he was ordered there…by…b-by C-Curly.  Esme became a templar because he just wanted to be with me…and all that was left of him …was ash and his armor.”

Varric watched as the woman drank directly from her almost-empty bottle.  “Monkey, why are you telling me this?”

Evie glanced at him, hugging her liquor bottle tightly.  Her forehead hit the table with a _thud._   “Because…if something happens tomorrow, tell my story.  Tell them I tried.  Tell them I am not a murderer.  I suffered the most because of this damn war.  They need to hate the right people, not me.”

“You can tell them that yourself, kid.” Varric nudged the drunk in the arm.

Nothing came out of the mage.

“Monkey?”

Nothing.

“ _Shit._ ” Varric muttered, rolled his eyes.  Soft snores escaped the woman passed out beside him.  He looked across the tavern where Iron Bull was finishing a drink, talking to Flissa.  The woman looked flustered as she eyed the Qunari closely.  “He gonna hate his…”  The dwarf mumbled, cupping his hand around his mouth.  “Tiny, a little help here…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] From a conversation Dorian has with Cole regarding the Fade.


	24. Foolhardy Arrogance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter before the end of Part 1! What have been your thoughts? Any advice? Leave me a comment, please!
> 
> Chapter Song: "When They Come for Me" by Linkin Park
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

It was too easy.  It was too _fucking_ easy.

Evie ordered and executed multiple contingency plans, even more than Cullen had suggested, a feat within itself.  She only allowed one-hundred of the best mages to travel to Haven.  She did not want to risk too many in fear of possession.  She permitted templars to be outside the temple ruins and throughout the mountain side to act swiftly if Cullen’s theory about fueling the Breach occurred.  Healers, apothecaries, and attending tranquil were assigned to specific checkpoints to respond to the injured instantly. Almost all refugees and pilgrims were moved out of the valley and waited at the first checkpoint in Ferelden.  Master Dennet moved all the horses and livestock over the mountain into another valley so they would not get slaughtered by demons like before.  She forced the Inquisition to run three drills for different scenarios.  Everyone believed she was a bit excessive.

They never saw that dark future.  They did not know Haven was defenseless and was massacred soon after Evie disappeared.  They never witnessed the Breach being the sky.  They will not know about how the army was repeated slaughtered by demons retaking Redcliffe Castle.  The only person out of anyone who understood was Dorian, but even he said she should let go of that vision.  They avoided that from happening.  No, none of them knew if they avoided that future or just pushed it back a few days, weeks, months?

Evie herself had to be the strongest of all.  She could not die sealing the Breach.  She witnessed what Thedas would become if she was not present.  The mage knew what would happen if the Elder One was unchallenged.  As much as Evie did not want to be at the center of everything, she accepted her role graciously now.  The mage slowly accepted she may be Andraste’s Herald because the mark may avoid the end of the Maker’s world.

The Iron Bull was the most surprised when they met in the Fallow Mire.  Evie requested they resume training as soon as possible.  She asked her team to teach her to swim, even if it was with the rising undead.  She hated the undead almost as much as nugs and oversized spiders, especially with their slimy bodies.  She saw it as a challenge.  Evie pushed the Qunari to increase the risks every time she began feeling comfortable about a move or tactic.  The man was thrilled by the prospect, showing his sexual arousal during their hand-to-hand fight.  Evie kept pushing him sexually knowing it would enrage the brute, causing more struggles and fighting.  Finally, he gave up and had to be alone for a while in the forest.  In that time, Varric shot bolts at her to dodge and bat away.  Everyone thought she was mad.

Evie promised Cullen.  She will not cry.  She will no longer be weak anymore.

The inferno mage also accepted that the Breach might kill her.  She prepared for her possible demise as soon as she and her team arrived back from the swamps.  She wrote letters to family and her comrades, stating it was a pleasure serving them.  Evie encouraged them to continue and never stop their mission.  If she only survived the Conclave to close the Breach, Evie accepted her fate as the will of the Maker, as much as she hated it.

Evie completed any pending requests so she knew her mind, body, and soul were at peace.  She asked Varric months ago if he was willing to answer some questions about Kirkwall.  He did not seem very happy she reminded him last night.  She was very drunk, but she had to investigate what the dwarf knew about Anders.  She passed out before telling him to report his knowledge to her father.  Luckily, she was too frightened and determined to notice her hangover that morning, thanking Bull and Varric for putting her to bed with her tequila bottle. 

The woman could not bring herself to speak to Cullen, her last pending matter.  She did not want him to know she consider herself too weak to seal the Breach.  The former templar had gotten under her skin and shook her very foundations.  All her inner alarms stated he was too dangerous, manipulative like other templars, and a partial cause to her sorrow, but she could not hate him.  She had tried, hoping he would be a true templar and turn cold and mechanical like they were trained.  No matter the fight in the end, they were in each other’s company again, usually with Evie crying on his shoulder.

Cullen’s lavender tea and sage smell that night in Redcliffe Castle hung in Evie’s nostrils even as she stared into the campfire in front of the Chantry.  The mage watched as her comrade letters burned and turned to ash in the flames.  She wished to feel his warmth against her cheeks again like the heat rising from the flames.  His tunic was loose against his body as she felt every chiseled feature with her hands and breasts.  Evie knew he was strong, but her mind created the greatest majestic images based on what she felt with her fingers.  The mage did not mean to nuzzle his neck, but her ear brushed against his stubble and immediately her whole body shook.  It took all her willpower to not rub her teary cheeks against his and wrap her arms around his neck.

Evie smacked her forehead against her arms as they sat on her knees.  She has never felt like this, and it terrified her.  It petrified her as much, if not more, than sealing the Breach that earlier afternoon.  She should be celebrating like everyone else, but she struggled.  Her mind and heart would not settle.  It was all too easy.  Everyone laughed at her persistence, but she knew there was a reason.  She encouraged the advisors not to move the people back to the village until tomorrow morning.  Her instincts had always proved right, typically when it was too late.

The fire mage stumbled to her feet, kicking some dust on the flames so the ash would not fly into the air.  Around her, Haven’s people were laughing, singing, and dancing.  Sera skipped by holding two wine bottles, twirling as she reached Dorian, who accepted one bottle.  Iron Bull was whispering into Flissa’s ear as she served some locals ale.  Varric told her passing out last night ruined his chance to get laid.  Leliana and Josephine giggled while speaking to Blackwall.  The Grey Warden leaned on the log fence wall over Josephine as she flashed multiple shades of red.  Vivienne found herself debating with some mages, waving her hand as she dismissed their counter arguments.  Evie could heard Varric’s voice inside the tavern as a huge group of soldiers listened to his version of events that morning.  Of course, sealing the Breach was not that spectacular, but the dwarf had a way with words.

In the distance, Evie witness Cullen speaking to his captains, most likely giving orders to move everyone back to Haven in the morning.  The officers’ faces showed they wished to party instead of work.  The mage smirked, deciding to face up to her fear and state to the man that she was addicted to him and did not know what to do.  If the Breach was sealed and nothing bad had happened, all her nerves were caused by him.  She preferred it that way.

Evie took one step towards the stone wall, planning on jumping off the wall.  She wanted to make an entrance, skipping over the campfire and surprise Minaeve and Seggrit dancing.  Maybe her sudden presence would allow his officers to run away as Cullen’s amber eyes stared in her direction.

“Herald…!”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  She hated that woman’s voice.  “Yes, Seeker?”  She made sure her irritation seeped into her words.

Cassandra strode up beside her.  “I wanted to speak to you about the Breach.”  Her Nevarran accent was becoming as annoying as Roderick’s.

“Yup, it’s close.  I am already making plans to address the darkspawn next.  One miracle down.  Let’s double it, you know?”

The seeker did not seem amused by the mage’s sarcasm.  “Your foolhardy arrogance never ceases to amaze me.”

Evie simply bowed.  “Thank you.”

The warrior grunted.  Her lip twitched as she spoke again.  “Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm.  The Breach is sealed.”

Evie huffed.  “Where is the sage now?  Hopefully digging into that Dalish elderberry wine I found for him.”

Cassandra’s eyes turned to silts.  “He is sleeping in the mine.”

“So, he is celebrating.  Fade walking like the nerd he is.”  Evie’s bright green eyes never left the commander.  A messenger who always bugged the blond Fereldan ran up behind him, nearly falling into Cullen from behind.  A few seconds passed as they spoke.  The commander walked towards the gate with a strange look on his face.

Cassandra groaned again.  “We’ve reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory.  Word of your heroism has spread.”

Again, Evie’s unsettled nerves flared.  The mark did not spark.  Since the hole in the Veil was closed, the mark was calm, no longer blaring into her ears like the apprentice children’s choir at the Circle.  “You know how many were involved.  Sick, shitty luck put me at the center.”  The mage could not admit to the faithful woman beside her she started to believe she was blessed by the Maker’s Bride.

“A strange kind of luck.” Cassandra smiled.  “I’m not sure if we need more or less.  But, you’re right.  This was a victory of alliance.  One of the few in recent memory.  With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus.”

A sick feeling brewed in Evie’s stomach as chimes ringed in her ears.  She glanced at the mark, but there was no sound or shocks into her body.  Her behavior and face must have alerted Cassandra beside her because the seeker studied her closely and placed her hand on her sword.  Cullen reappeared from the lower levels of Haven with his sword as a booming sound echoed off the Frostback Mountains.  The warning bells sounded from all four ramparts around Haven.

“Forces approaching!  To arms!”  The commander called, causing all celebrating music and singing to cease.  Evie swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

“What the…?  We must get to the gates!”  Cassandra hollered, drawing her sword from its scabbard. 

Evie rolled her head around her neck, thankful she kept her new ironbark staff with a large tiger’s eye focus crystal, a gift from the mages for her success that day.  Harritt completed yet another new bear suede rogue armor and vest for the sealing designed for healing than for warmth.  “Damn, I hate when I’m right…”

 

* * *

 

Cullen wanted to tell the Herald it was just that simple.  The Breach sealed just like they planned.  All her contingency plans, her vigorous training was not needed.  She was already strong enough.  She proved a hundred fold that she could seal the Breach.  Her past made her the person she was now, exactly who was needed as the Herald and for the Inquisition.  The mage was driven, witty, and humble.  She listened and respected differing opinions.  She overcame every obstacle with ease and more resolve.  When she believed she would fail, Cullen would be there to carry her, a shoulder she could use to weep into until she fell asleep or could stand again.  That is what he should have told her that night in Redcliffe.

That was the plan at least.  The commander spent the afternoon after closing the Breach organizing the civilians and livestock so they may return back to the village tomorrow.  He rushed his officers around with final orders, ignoring their grimaces.  He wanted to celebrate too.  Cullen planned to tell Evie everything that rolled around in his head.

So when that messenger who he could not ever remember his name rushed up behind the commander, almost tackling him to the ground, Cullen almost told him to scram.  Evie was standing on the stone wall, speaking to Cassandra, looking like she was going to rip the woman’s head off.  The mage had yet to calm down.  The messages could wait.  Cullen had to put Evie’s mind at ease.

“Sir!  The right forward watchtower reports!”  The annoying messenger stated before the blond man punched him.  “A massive horde climbs the ridge into the valley!”

“Horde?” the commander repeated as if he had never heard of the word.  He started walking towards the gates to address the on-duty lieutenant.  “Avvar?”

“No!  A steel armored, huge army!  It is a sea of torches!”

Cullen’s amber eyes widen.  “Under what banner?”

The man shook his head.  “There wasn’t one, sir!”

“Lieutenant?  Report!”  Cullen called up on the ramparts by the gates.

“Multiple lights on the ridgeline!  They march on Haven!”  The officer called as the troops scrabbled on the walkways.

“Ring the alarms.  Everyone to report immediately at the gate!” Cullen hollered, drawing his sword.  His first instinct was to protect Evie, as foolish as it was.  The woman was nothing like a damsel princess as orges stormed her tower.  The mage would just blow the whole thing up and walk out of the carnage with that sassy saunter she loved to use when she teased him.

Instead, Cullen buried his inner reflexes and embraced his military training, pivoting on his right foot and ran up the stairs from the lower level.  “Forces approaching!  To arms!”  He called in his booming commanding voice.  It echoed over the ringing bells and buildings, striking all attention in his direction.  His eyes locked on the Herald still by the seeker on the wall.  Her eyes were closed as she rolled her head around her shoulders.  It was her way of stating she know she was right.

The commander immediately barked orders to his officers surrounding him.  “All civilians and tranquil move to the Chantry.  Trebuchet crews, man their stations.  All combat mages, stand ready at the gates.  Inner wall troops, build barricades and secure all potentially weak entrances.”  His years of study, analysis, and oversee to potentially hundreds of troops felt like a comforting armor.  The man executed his plans and tactics like he began a game of chess.  Cullen was in his element.  This was his role, his duty.

The advisors and the Herald raced to his side. 

“Cullen?” Cassandra called as she stood ready with her sword and shield in hand.

“One watch guard reporting.  It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?”  Josephine asked, her hand on her chest.

“None.”

“None?!” the ambassador squeaked. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Evie eyed the gate.  Her face morphed as she listened intently to the marching, the warning bells, and edicts around her.  Cullen knew that look from the Circle.  All mages had that look as they pulled from the other side of the Veil.  Knowing now that Evie drew from the Fade like it was a unique music, she was dividing the sounds to focus.  Something must be disrupting the tone as she kept glancing at the calm mark and back to the gate.

A few bangs rattled the heavy wooden doors.  “I can’t come in unless you open!”

The Herald rushed forward, assisting a gate guard pulling the doors open.  Cullen’s naturally prepared his broadsword forward to attack as he saw a charging templar lifting up his greatsword.  For a moment, the commander believed it was a loyal templars who had left the lord seeker, but something felt off.  The brute stopped and fell over, revealing his assassin.  Bodies littered the ground around him.  The boy looked no more than eighteen.  His face was sunk in and ashen.  His skin clung onto his bones as if he had no fat or muscle.  In either hand were daggers, blooded from the kills.

“I came to warn you.  To help.  People are coming to hurt you, Candle.  You probably already know.”  The boy explained, his bright blue eyes stared at Evie like a moth to a flame.  His floppy hat bobbled on his head.  The lyrium in his blood vibrated in the boy’s presence.

Evie’s troubled face continued to shift as she stared at the man.  At one point, she patted her ear and squeezed her eyes shut like someone screamed.  “What is this?  What’s going on?”

“The templars come to kill you.”

That hit Cullen like a ton of stone.  The commander rushed forward, placing himself in front of the Herald.  The boy stumbled back, but immediately attempted to reach for the woman eagerly.  “Templars?  Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages?!”

“The red templars went to the Elder One.”  The boy whispered, side stepping around Cullen to reach Evie again. 

All the color in Evie’s face drained away as her eyes locked on Cullen.  The man registered the boy’s words carefully, understanding why she was petrified.  Red templar.  She envisioned that monster she was forced to kill in the future, the future him.

“You know him?  He knows you.  You took his mages.  There.”  The boy motioned and pointed to a high ridge top by the druffalo canyon.

Two figures overlooked the ridge’s edge.  A blonde woman was clad in black, thrusting her staff into the ground like an evil witch out of a fairytale.  The man to her right caused the commander to pinch his nose and rub his eyes.  The barred door within his mind was thumping, pushing at the locks and chains to open.  The red spiked man in full templar armor stared down at the gate like a beast ready to feast.  No, it was _him_.

“I know that man…”  Cullen growled, placing himself over Evie more.  Out of a black mist emerged a towering disgusting sight.  Red spikes stuck out of one side of his head and chest.  Raven feathers and black bear fur covered his shoulders and formed a lower robe over his legs.  “…but the Elder One…?”

Cole bobbled his head, twisting his fingers together.  “He’s very angry that you took his mages.”

“Cullen!”  The commander pivoted on his right foot, meeting Evie’s bright green eyes again.  There were burning as her fear shifted to determination.  “Give me a plan!  Anything!”

Cullen kicked the mental door to silence the banging.  His commanding mind returned swiftly at her call.  “Haven is no fortress.  If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.”  He pointed to the trebuchets being loaded by the siege soldiers.  “Get out there and hit that force.  Use everything you can!”

Cullen did not realize it but Evie’s party members had all gathered around the gate.  Evie twirled around, spinning her staff in her right hand.  “You-“ She pointed at the boy in the floppy hat.  “You want to help?  Assist anyone who is not a soldier into the Chantry.  Vivienne and Dorian will secure the perimeter within Haven.  Dorian knows how to fight those things like me, so if they enter Haven, follow his lead.  Blackwall, Sera, Iron Bull and the Chargers will support the gates with Cullen’s men so nothing enters this point.  Cassandra, Varric, and Solas, follow me to assist the trebuchet teams.”  The mage flicked her eyes at the commander with a smirk.  “I got an idea.  A nice _frosty_ welcome to the Elder Ass.”

Cullen allowed a small grin as she took off running forward towards the trebuchets.  The commander reviewed the men and women gathered at the gate.  Most were mages who had assisted in closing the Breach that morning.  “Mages!  You have sanction to engage them!  That is Samson.  He will not make it easy!  Inquisition!  With the Herald!  For your lives!  For all of us!”

When Evie said she had a frost surprise for the monster, the mage was not kidding.  Nothing neared Haven’s gates as her team fought three waves of red templars.  He barely could keep track on the catwalks as she Fade stepped around the battlefield.  Once the first trebuchet was firing properly, the team raced to the other across from the forge.  Cullen not see that far, only hearing multiple screams and explosions.  Then, it fired, launching a boulder into the mountainside above the marching army.  For a brief moment, the commander believed the worst was behind them.  That mage was a genius.  The thousands of lights that approached were snuffed out by the tumbling snow and stone.

That was when Cullen saw it.  It was as black as the new moon night sky.  Its wings flapped like a thousand bats in one fluid motion.  The beast’s massive size only appeared as it shrieked, spitting a fireball at the far trebuchet.  Cullen saw debris and shrapnel fly into the air.  He ordered all gate soldiers to move back as a second strike opened the log fence wide open into Haven’s interior.  The man remained, barking orderings as soon as he thought of them. 

A small voice in the back of the commander’s mind whispered he failed.  He did not have a contingency plan for this.  For months, that voice stated multiple times Haven could not support the growing military and civilian populations.  Tents stretched around the lake.  People were getting sick in the winter weather.  Supply lines were barely keeping up with the demand.  The remaining rebel mages were forced to wait in Redcliffe until after the Breach was sealed, partly because there was nowhere to put them.

Cullen ignored that voice, seeing now his shortcoming clear as day as Haven burned with each dragon strike.  Of course, he never considered a dragon _with_ a military force.  He considered both separately, but there were no dragons in the Frostbacks, so he pushed the potential threat to the back of his mind.  He was more concerned keeping the mages and knights from killing one another and assassins striking Evie.  Yet, that voice, Esme Trevelyan, kept whispering in his ear, ‘You failed her.’

Evie was last to run around the corner from the blasted trebuchet, stopping briefly to assist Harritt at the forge.  She waited until every soldier was inside the gates, despite Cullen yelling for her to hurry and join them.  He pushed her through at the last moment before the dragon blasted the path.  The remaining guards shut the high doors and placed a heavy log to bar entry.

“We need everyone back to the Chantry!  It’s the only building that might hold against…that beast!”  He thrusted his gloved hands downward.  His call demonstrated his realization to the Herald and his officers.  Esme nagged him.  The commander could not look into Evie’s shimmering bright green eyes behind him.    “At this point…just make them work for it.”

Cullen must regroup with his remaining officers and men at the Chantry.  The former templar was a force to be reckon with as he sliced, parry, and blocked his way to the holy stone building.  Before, Evie’s teams successful kept the assaulters away from the gate.  His broadsword remained clean of blood and gore.  Now, with each step, he dodged and stabbed waves of disfigured knights.  They poured like ants through Haven’s shattered defenses.  The men and women were fast as the red lyrium enraged them, while keeping their military prowess.  With each counter, Cullen struggled to move and weave from the strange zooming assassins and oversized brutes.  For swift seconds, he mind wondered how Evie and Dorian survived against his monstrosity if these creatures remotely resembled his future self.

When Cullen left Haven’s gates, at least forty Inquisition troops and mages were following.  As he reviewed his men once inside the Chantry nave, there was little more than half with most wounded.  The commander ordered everyone to the cellar, the farthest point possible from dragon strikes.  With the nave cleared, Cullen realized very other groups had actually reached the Chantry alive.  The cellar was not that large.  That morning 104 mages assisted in closing the Breach.  Within the hobbled group, he estimated forty.  Fifty-six templars had joined their ranks during the process.  Now, twenty remained.  He kept reminding himself it could have been worst if the remaining mages, traveling templars, pilgrims, refugees, and horses remained in Haven.  Almost all of those groups were currently out of red templar army’s range.  It did not mean they were not being attacked by the dragon. 

All the while, Esme Trevelyan never relented his constant goads.

Every few moments, a few soldiers and civilians trickled in through the door:  Flissa, the racist Seggrit, Adan, and Minaeve.  Templar-Recruit Lysette arrived with Ser Hugh, Vivienne and Dorian.  The Tevinter mage stated they cleared the burning buildings for any survivors.  A few more moments passed when Sera arrived with Evie’s assistant, Fesill.  The strange boy hobbled inside with Chancellor Roderick’s arm draped over his shoulders, setting him on a nearby wooden chair.  Roderick called the Chantry was their shelter to the injured and dying. 

“He tried to stop a templar.  The blade went deep.  He’s going to die.”  The floppy hat young man cooed, resting the Chantry cleric down.

“What a charming boy…”  The chancellor coughed.  Blood spit across the floor as he held his gut.

Cullen stood at the door, directing people in and waiting for a green glow in the darkness and inferno.  Just like at the gate, Evie and her comrades were last to reach the Chantry.  Iron Bull and his Charger continued to cut through the templars with the quartermaster, Threnn, while over the hillcrest, Evie’s team covered the rear.  The fire mage kept yelling at the troops to retreat, cutting the red templars with her staff blade and igniting them like armored candles.

The commander fought the urge to grab the woman and pull her into the stone building.  Instead, he marched to the Chantry cellars door against the urges to review the situation with the battered Captain Rylen and Ser Hugh.  He kept giving orders, to clear the boxes and supplies in the cellar so there would be more room for survivors.  At least in the cramped walls, there was a sea of people shoulder-to-shoulder.  His claustrophobia was only harnessed by his impatience for Evie to join everyone.

The Chantry door slammed above him, echoing down into the cellar stairwell. 

That better be Evie closing it. 

Cullen skipped stairs to reach the nave again, seeing the Chargers patting against the columns.  Even Iron Bull looked worse for wear.  Dorian cast a healing spell over Krem, while Vivienne wrapped Grim’s arm after sealing it shut.  Solas struggled to conjure a heal spell to repair Varric’s gashed head.  Cassandra panted with her hands on her hips.  A stream of blood ran from her temple, but it looked like it was not her own.

Evie stood, leaning on her staff.  Her multiple braids were nearly undone from their twisted bun on the back of her head.  Her medium armor was torn in multiple places where swords, daggers, and arrows at ripped at the edges.  As Cullen neared, blood dripped from her ears.  Her back thigh was sliced open.  Blood dripped from her left elbow, running down from her shoulder.  The mage must have heard his boots thundering up behind her, because she glanced over her shoulder, showing her swelling right cheek.  Instantly, the commander glanced at her belt.  There were no potions left in the loops.  Knowing her, she gave it to everyone but herself.

“Herald!”  Cullen called, reaching Evie’s position in front of the door.  In the distance, marching feet and banging swords hammered at Haven’s gates and across the burning buildings.  “Our position is not good.  That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon.  I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”  The strange boy whispered beside Roderick.

“I don’t care what it looks like.”  Cullen snorted.  “It has cut a path for that army.  They’ll massacre anyone still standing!”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village.  He only wants the Candle.”  The boy’s chin nudged towards Evie.

Evie gritted her teeth.  “If you know why he wants me, tell me so I fucking kill him!”  Her tone was louder than usually, mostly because of her bloodlust and that she could barely hear herself.

“I don’t.  He’s too loud.  It hurts to hear him.  Besides, it won’t be easy.  He has a dragon.”

Cullen nearly punched the skinny man right then.  “We know what he…!  Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable.  The only think that slowed them was the avalanche.  We can turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

Evie’s bright green eyes glowed, realizing what the commander was suggesting.  “We’re overrun.  To kill the enemy, we’d bury Haven!”

Cullen sighed, seeing her inner flame slowly burn out at the reality of it all.  Esme whispered his nagging mantra in his ear continuously now.  “We’re dying, but we can decide how.  Many don’t get that choice.”  Evie’s mouth gulped as she began rubbing her temples.  Her morphing facial expression stated everything she was thinking and feeling.

Esme screamed in the former templar’s heart and soul.  _You failed her.  You failed my sister.  You killed me, and now you will kill Evelyn._

 Cullen reached out for her arm, just wishing for the last chance to hold her.  Her inner flame was snuffed out. Evie’s once found strength and willpower from Redcliffe Castle disappeared as tears pooled in her eyes.  He broke her.  _Again_.

He froze as the boy spoke again.  “Yes, that.  Chancellor Roderick can help.  He wants to say it before he dies.”

The Herald and the commander faced the weak, bleeding cleric in the wooden chair.  His face was white as blood drippled from his lips.  “There is a path.  You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage.  As I have.  The people can escape.  She must have shown me.  Andraste must have should me so I could…tell you.”

Evie inched forward, kneeling by the man.  She winced as the gash in her leg forced her to stumble a little.  “What are you on about, Roderick?”

“It was whim that I walked the path.  I didn’t mean to start—it was overgrown.  Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers…I don’t know, Herald.  If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident.  _You_ could be more.”

The Herald- No _Eve_ gazed up at Cullen with the largest hopeful eyes.  The once distance flame reignited by the prospect.  “What do you say, Cullen?”

“That dragon will see us immediately.”

“Not if I play bait.”  She smiled, slowly returning to her feet.  “You still have that key for the cellar backdoor.  The door you promised me that no one could use to get in?”

Cullen started to figure out her plan, feeling the weight sink into his chest.  “Yes, but-“

“Can you get the other end open?  Send a signal when you all are clear?”

“Eve-“

“ _Will_ you make it work, Commander?”

Cullen stopped his protest hearing his title with her strong, stern voice.  Her lips curled into the biggest smile as her irises swirled around her pupils.  Every freckle was clear across her face.  Her forehead scars disappeared, leaving no blemishes.  Her bangs cupped her high cheekbones and jawline accenting her Free Marcher heritage.

“What about _you?_ ”  He whispered, using what air remained in his lungs to speak.

Evie pulled off her scarf and unbuttoned her coat and vest.  She reached into her tunic, grabbing a hidden gold chain.  She yanked hard, breaking the clasp.  She pulled its hidden object from her clothing, revealing a golden circular pendant with a large ring hanging on the end.  Evie grabbed Cullen’s right hand, shoving the object into his grasp.  “Find me, Templar.  If…you can’t…give the signet ring to my father and tell him ‘I died being a Trevelyan.’”  She chuckled, tapping his cheek a few times with her gloved hand.

The fire mage started rebuttoning her vest as she stepped back, never breaking her green gaze on the commander.  She jogged over to Dorian, pulling off his potion belt before the mage registered what was going on.  “Iron Bull, assist Cassandra and Blackwall prepping the last trebuchet, then get the fuck back here.  The commander will lead everyone out of the Chantry cellar and up the mountain.  Krem, assist with the Chargers until the others get back.  Varric, once you all are clear, shoot me a light okay?”  Her voice was giddy as her party members registered what was happening.  She grabbed her staff, twirling it around like at practice.  “I’ve got to shove a boulder up a creature’s asshole!”

Evie stepped outside, not waiting for anyone to protest.  Her eyes lingered at Cullen as she smiled one last time, tilting her head like she always does when she is mischievous.  Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Blackwall raced out after her.  The door slammed behind her, tickling her fingers in the air like she would be right back. 

Cullen felt like time moved slowly as his eyes shifted from the wooden Chantry door to his right hand.  The chain wound around his fingers to the circular pendant cradled in his gloved palm.   To anyone else, it looked like a wearable time sand piece.  To Cullen’s inner templar, it was blood, her blood.

Evie’s phylactery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, Calpernia and Samson are both servants to Corypheus. Depending on which side you choose to seal the Breach, that "leader", especially in Calpernia's case, codex still reference her. I don't think just losing the mages would diminish her role. She would not the Vessel, but she would still have command over the Venatori. I also wanted to give Evie and Cullen similar adversaries: mage vs mage and templar vs templar.


	25. The Other Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Hello" by Adele
> 
> OVER 700 HITS! Thank you!

Cold.  Her cheek was against something cold.

Evie slowly opened her eyes, wary when she only saw darkness with a hint of green.  She was sure she was awake.  She could not hear anything, but she could not remember why.  Her body felt like a herd of druffalo stampeded over it.  Her right arm was penned underneath her, while the other was bent by her head.  Her left hand felt like someone attempted to rip it off.  Her right thigh stung.  Her left knee felt like a rock was jammed into it.  The only part of her that did not hurt in some way was her bottom, and even then she was not sure.  It just felt numb.

Was this the Fade?  The air smelled crisp with a touch of mildew.  She never equated a demon to mildew unless she was encountering a very rare demon.  Even then mildew was not exactly a _bad_ smell.  It reminded the mage of mixing potions in her alchemy class as an apprentice.  Although, the last time she worked with any fungus she almost blew up that part of the Circle.

Evie attempted to lift herself a little, immediately screaming as her abdomen buckled and stung beneath her.   Liquid touched her right hand’s fingertips.  Evie panted a few times, preparing herself for a new wave of pain.  She held her breathe, pushed with her left arm to roll herself over.  The mage’s cry echoed around her, but she could not tell it was in her head or physically bouncing off the walls.  She was now on her back, watching as puffs of white smoke escaped her lips.

No, she was not in the Fade.  That was her warm breath hitting the icy air.

Her eyes adjusted to her dark surroundings, barely illuminated by the soft green glow from her left hand.  The ceiling was difficult to see, but it glittered with blue and white crystals, most likely ice.  To her left and right was clumps of snow.  Her memory rushed over her like the avalanche she just escaped.

Corypheus.  The ugly motherfucker’s name was Corypheus.  She even called him an ugly motherfucker as he held her at eye level like a ragdoll.  The monster loved the sound of his own voice, spouting about how he wanted to return to the Black City under his own name and bring Tevinter back from ruin.  Once the sonofabitch slung her against the trebuchet and she saw Varric flaming bolt, Evie believed it was her moment to tell him Thedas only had room for one foolhardy arrogant mage.  Thanks for the descriptor, Seeker.  She cut that rope with a nearby sword and took off running for the mine.

Evie glanced down at herself.  A broken sword blade stuck out of her abdomen.  Yup, that blade actually.  The mage flicked her right hand, bringing forth a healing spell, but it disappeared before stabilizing.  No mana.  She glanced at the mark on her left hand.  Her mistake, the _fucking_ _Anchor_ she apparently stole.  She attempted to pull from the Fade, but could not hear its music both internally and externally.  The Anchor sparked, but died quickly.  She did not have the willpower to utilize it properly.

Shit.

One last idea.

Evie reached for her scarf-

-It is missing.

“Ugh…” The mage groaned, remembering she torn it off to reach her phylactery.  It was lying on the now buried Chantry’s floor.

At least there was a means for Cullen to find her.  She winced, feeling the blade cutting into her torso.  If they reached her before she bled to death.  Harritt’s armor healing sigils was probably keeping her alive at the moment.  She did not know how long she had been laying there.  It could be still night or day.  The snow blocked any outside light.

“Get moving, Evie.”

Evie glanced around her, hoping the voice echoed off the mine walls.  Nothing.  She touched her ear with her left hand, holding the liquid to her face.  Blood.  She must have busted her eardrums first when the trebuchet exploded and when that damn dragon shrieked behind her.

“I said get up!”

Evie kicked her legs underneath her, trying to avoid bending her abdomen as much as possible.  As much as panic told her to remove the broken blade from her belly, healing class stated not to remove an object until it could be properly healed shut afterwards.  The object keeps the wound sealed in some way for a while.  Removing it prematurely could lead to sudden blood loss and death in the manner of moments.  However, if she was hearing voices, she did not have that much time left.

Once the mage reached her feet, she allowed herself a few moments to gasp and steady herself.  She readjusted her sash around her waist to tighten and keep the wound sealed enough and avoid the blade from slipping and sawing into her organs constantly.  Dorian’s spent potion’s belt was handy for the slice to her back thigh, slowing any blood loss there.  Evie ripped the rest of the tail of her coat off to wrap her shoulder.  Using her right arm was awful.  Her humerus bone likely broke in the fall.

“I’m a fucking mess…” Evie muttered, feeling dizzy.

“Then get moving.”

That voice was becoming annoying, but it was not her own.  It was deeper and comforting.

“Cullen?”

No, not Cullen’s.  It did not have that Ferelden husky feel that she craved like lyrium at the moment.  Evie shook her head, regretting the action immediately as she stumbled backwards a little.  If she wanted that handsome templar to find her, she had to get to the surface, preferably without meeting an archdemon.

Evie attempted to summon magic again, this time using her left hand and a spell that even her nine year old self could do.  A low orange light ball hovered right above her hand, flickering a little as Evie felt dizziness and depleted again.  At least she could see now, noticing only one way to go in the cavern.  She took her first steps, groaning every time her boot hit the ground and sent vibrations through her body.

 

* * *

 

“Maker, if you are testing me…shit, even _punishing_ me, this is just ridiculous.”  Evie mumbled as her gaze stared out into the white unknown.

Wind blew snow at a horizontal angle.  She only knew because it battered against her cheeks at the cave entrance.  It must have been whistling for hours into the cave, but Evie’s hearing had barely returned.  She actually missed the blaring noise the red templars gave off in Haven. 

Evie kept her orange ball of light close to her, primarily because she could not sustain it that far from her body.  If she lost the spell, she feared she would now have the willpower or mana to cast it again.

The blizzard blocked all directional visuals.  Any signs of life at the distance was impossible.  The Inquisition exodus could be ten feet away, and she would have no idea.  Yet, a part of Evie hoped Cullen would appear from the white abyss, holding her phylactery.  She wanted to race forward and cover her body with his mantle coat as he assure her she will be okay and safe.

Evie held her tattered coat to her body, barely able to reach for her hood attached to the collar.  Every time she brought it over her head, the wind smacked it away.  She could not hold it in place and keep her spell shining.  The mage decided to forgo the head cover, the light being her better option.  She could at least see her feet through the snowstorm and maybe it could be a beacon for a rescue party.

If she was standing in a blizzard that meant the Inquisition must be as well.  A sinking feeling hit her like that red templar behemoth.  All those people in these freezing winds just trying to stay alive and escape that archdemon.  They probably believe she was dead.

Except Cullen.

The former templar would know if her phylactery glowed once activated, it stated she was alive, echoing pulsing light in which direction to go.  He would have tell his men and the other advisors she was still alive, meaning explaining how he knew.  If they all knew, especially the templars, they would demand to keep it and hide it again.  Her freedom lost because she just wanted to live.

“Do you really think so lowly of us templars?”

Evie twirled, trying to find that particular voice.  She would know it anywhere.  The other tone in the cave was somewhat foreign, but familiar.  In the snowstorm, she saw two figures standing, green in color.  They faced one another, waving for her to follow.

“Rian?!”  Evie hollered, stumbling out of the cave’s mouth towards the figures.  Their silhouettes faded as she neared.

No, that could not be Rian.  Her cousin and adopted brother had been dead for ten years.  Could that other voice be Esme?  She had not heard Esme’s speech since she was eight and he three.  He was nineteen when he died in the Chantry, a young charming man who would not sound like he swallowed a chipmunk.

If the mage was hearing them, seeing them...

…it meant she was slowly dying.

Evie stood in the blasting snow and stared down at her right hand.  Her palm pressed against her seeping wound.  Her gloves were soaked through.  She was slowly bleeding her life away.  Every moment she just stood there, every second without a rescue was a second closer to death.  The resolve and acceptance that Evie would die sealing the Breach was gone.  She was terrified.  The mage escaped death three other times in her life, but this was the worst.  Why was it so much worst?

“Cullen…find me…”  Evie whimpered, stepping forwards towards where her brothers once stood.

No, the commander must protect the people.  It was his duty.  She told him to protect everyone in Haven that could be saved.  She made her choice to be the bait and face that ugly magister and his pet archdemon.  Yet, she did not do so to die.  Maybe that is why this was so difficult.  She did not believe she would die in the avalanche or while standing up that creature.  Possibly the mage believed Cullen and the rescue group would arrive immediately, even though that was extremely stupid and irrational.

Evie must come to terms she would die alone surrounded by snow and winds.  What had become the most commonplace aspect of her life was her greatest fear:  lonesomeness.  She feared failure, but not as much as being alone.  She never allowed people to be close to her because most died or betrayed her if she allowed them into her heart.  After she was taken to the Circle and Rian died, she was alone.  What few friends she had there all had tragic ends.  Lydia was blood sacrificed.  Her city elf apprentice friend, Almi, was made tranquil because she refused to take her harrowing.  Esme stopped writing her after he became a templar.  Her mother and father barely contacted her, keeping their association as small as possible.  She knew her parents loved her.  They protected and cared for her indirectly, thus the times Evie almost died and survived the ordeals. 

As for everyone else, especially her comrades she met in the Inquisition, she pushed them all away.  She believed it was for their own good, but that was bullshit.  Evie dreaded disappointment and betrayal.  The mage feared they would harm her, even though none of them had tried.  Well, Cassandra was an outlier case.  The two of them just could not get along, too strong willed and stubborn.  The mage forgave the seeker in that moment trucking through the snow for not helping her in her time of need and everything she said afterwards.  Something must have happened to her that made her keep that harden exterior.  Maker, they were _too_ similar.

What about everyone else?  Why shy away from them?  Iron Bull and Sera were perverted and vulgar.  They never treated her like a noble, thank goodness.  They laughed with her, not at her.  Why shove them away?  Dorian experienced that horrific future with her.  He was sassy and hubris, but not in a bad way.  The man was gorgeous and quite out of her league, even if Evie had a league she could attempt.  Sharing such an event that no one else would understand should be a great foundation for a friendship.  Nope, Evie ruined that with her stupidity.  Blackwall and Solas were stolid people.  Blackwall held her at a distance like she did him.  He was a fine warrior and knowledgeable.  Maybe he was harden like Cassandra.  Evie never tried to understand.  Solas was a wealth of wisdom.  He willingly mentored her about the mark and taught her elven.  Out of anyone, he knew the most about her personal life because he assisted her with finding her phylactery.  See Evie!  He never betrayed her and told anyone about the excursion that night.  Varric was the other most understanding individual of the clan.  He always made her laugh and connected her to someone Evie respected wholeheartedly.  Yet, the mage never told him anything that could end up in a book.  He was a rogue, he probably already knew everything.  What was holding her back?

Vivienne was a special case, but no one except the first enchanter and she knew why.  No, the Iron Bitch was not getting close to her, but could be a subject used to confide in one of the others.  Leliana scared her because the spymaster already knew too much about Evie without saying a word.  She could use that information against her, but had not.  She probably knew about Evie’s connection to Vivienne and could assist her.  Josephine indirectly knew their relationship as well, but always insisted Orlais could solve their problems.  Evie never told the ambassador why she hated the empire and its nobles.  She treated Evie with respect because she was of noble birth, yet the mage never told her why it hurt her so much.

Although they only spoke a few moments during Haven’s fall, that young sickly boy seemed familiar to Evie.  He vibrated the Fade like a gong in the symphony.  Before she and that guard open Haven’s outer gate, she felt his low pitch.  It was a soothing sound surrounded by all those templar chimes.  His eyes were piercing cold, so sad.  Once he saw her, his face lit up like a thousand candles.    He even called her ‘Candle.’  It was like two old friends who had not seen each other in decades meeting again.  It warmed her soul.  Who was he?  What was he?  She would never know, but she did somehow.  It did not make sense in her lowly oxygenated brain.

Lastly, Cullen. 

Evie swayed at the thought as her braids broke loose from their bun on the back of her head.  The knotted hair kept smacking her eyes and cheeks in the unrelenting winds.  Evie stopped and pulled the ties at the ends to allow her auburn braids to unravel.  Maybe her hair would keep her ears warm.  She already lost feeling at the tips as well as in her nose, toes, and fingers.

The woman would never get to tell him she was addicted to the former templar.  She attempted to hate him.  She should hate him.

“Evie, we are not that bad.”

Evie swallowed, seeing adult Esme glimmer through the snowstorm.  “You and Rian are not like most templars.”

“And so is the Knight-Captain.” He remarked, crossing his arms over his breastplate.

“He probably poisoned your mind with his mage hate speech!”  Evie knew she was hollering at nothing.  It was the blood loss, her closeness to crossing the Veil.

“You don’t know that.  You never asked him!”

“You are assuming because of what you read in that book.”  Rian informed.  “You know better to believe hearsay.  You always scolded all the apprentices in the Circle for believing everything they heard about me.”

“That’s because the rumors about you were bullshit.”  She spat, chugging through the knee-high slow pass the green figures.  “I knew you better than anyone!  You would never abuse anyone.”

“You forget all those threats I gave when someone endangered you.”  The man replied, walking beside her.

“You were always a mother hen.”  Evie muttered, ignoring the men following her.  “You were protecting me.”

“Much like the knight-captain is now.”  Esme cooed to her left.

“I don’t need protection…”

Both men burst out laughing, pointing at one another.  She glared at both of them, flicking them off with her left hand.  She nearly lost her orb of light in the process.  It only caused them to laugh more.  She rolled her eyes, pushing forward again.  A gush of blood seeped through her fingers, or at least she believed because her hands were numb now.

“Sister, you’re your own worst enemy.”  Esme explained, racing forward ahead of her.  He swirled around and walked backwards as she slowed her pace.  The snow was becoming more difficult to maneuver through.  “Listen to your thoughts for the last few hours.  You don’t have any friends because you did not let anyone _be_ your friend.  The knight-captain is as close as anyone has gotten to you in ten years, and it frightens you.  You hate that you have relied on him.  You loath that his actions throw you for a loop.  Most of all, you fear that if something happens to him you go insane and die-“

-She threw her younger brother a look.

“-I mean figuratively die.”  He waved his arms out from his green figure, stopping in his tracks.  Evie sighed, looking away and passed the figure with a grunt.

“I think what Esme means is that you care for him.” Rian clarified, keeping up with the woman.

Now, it was Evie’s turn to burst out laughing.  Her mage light spell intensified with each difficult gasp of air.  If someone appear and saw her now, they would think she had gone mad.  She was talking to two glowing dead men.

“That hilarious, Ri.” Evie chuckled, shaking her head.  She pitched forward as she nearly lost consciousness.  Barely enough blood was reaching her brain now.  Luckily, the snow was tall enough that she barely had to push herself up to return to her feet.  However, the broken blade was sawing through her inners continuously now.  “I-“  she winced, coughing up some blood.  It sprayed the snow in front of her.  “I have only liked one person in my whole life and look how well _that_ went.”

Rian groaned.  “Evie-“

“No!”  Evie yelled, coughing some more.  “I’ll see you two idiots soon.  Just…just let me die with some peace…”  Tears trickled down her cheeks, freezing as soon as they reached her chin.  The blizzard broke a little, allowing Evie to see some pine trees in the distance.  “Let me…reminisce in what will never be now…” She squeezed her eyes shut.  “Let me…enjoy those last moments with…”  She stopped herself as she sobbed once.  She finally opened her eyes and glanced to her sides.  The green figures were gone.  “…Let me weep and realize this will be the last time…and Cullen will not see my tears.”

The mage started forward again, pulling up her legs with each step.  The wind intensified as she neared the woodland area.  The pine trees will protect her a little.  Maybe by the time Evie emerged on the other side of the pines, the snowstorm will have dissipated-

-or she could die among the vegetation, completely alone.

 

* * *

 

Cullen turned around, looking in all direction for any hint of life.  He hoped when he crusted the mountain top, he would see _something_ that give him some hope.  The commander should have been thankful the blizzard had dissipated a bell ago, leaving a clear sparking sky above with a sea of stars.  At any other time, it would be the most beautiful sight, a sign of the Maker’s existence.  Yet, that was not the beatific view he craved to see.

The Haven survivors barely beat the blizzard descending over the Frostback Mountains.  Once Varric signaled for the trebuchet launch, the people raced out of range, snaking through the mid valleys as the snowstorm gathered and began blowing horizontally.  They were able to make camp when the snow poured like out a bucket over the refugees.  Leliana and her scouts found the location, stating it would block most of the harsh weather.  Cullen sent some soldiers to contact the civilians and the horsemaster of their new position.  They had relocated too once they saw the flames and the dragon in the distance.  Corporal Vale and the troops standing guard moved everyone into a large cave until they heard nothing.  Once contacted, they were making the journey to the canyon.

Cullen placed Captain Rylen in charge and immediately started back towards Haven.  He refused to wait any longer to find Evie.  In the bells since fleeing Haven, he watched her phylactery dim.  She was alive, but she was slowly dying.  He told very few people how he knew she was alive, knowing that she trusted him enough with something so important.  He did not let himself wonder how she had it.  He would ask her when he found her.  He will ask her all the questions he always curious about.  How did she get those scars?  What did her violin sound like?  What was her favorite liquor?  But first, _find_ her.

Dawn would rise over the horizon within the a couple bells.  When the enemy attacked Haven, night had just fallen over the feasts and celebration.  The red templars and that damn dragon destroyed Haven within two bells.  That meant Evie had been out in the weather and chaos of about eight hours, alone and slowly dying.

The commander requested volunteers to accompany him.  Almost her entire party rose to their feet.  It pained Cullen to tell a few to remain behind.  Varric was concussed, rabbling about Hangman’s beer supply running out.  Vivienne was one of the few mages who could heal wounded at the moment.  He personally was glad she could because he did not want her to know about the phylactery.  Evie really disliked the woman.  Yet another question to ask the Herald.  Blackwall took a nasty hit to the side when he, Cassandra, and Iron Bull raced back to the Chantry.   He had at least five broken ribs that threatened his right lung.  He had to limit movement.  Sera suffered from frostbite.  Iron Bull’s temperature was too low, hovering close to hypothermia.  He was large, but he wandered the mountains with no shirt and nearly no pants because his gear was rip to shreds by those crazy fast red lyrium assassins.  Josephine and Leliana remained behind to oversee building camp and devise a plan.  Leliana hid her nerve pain well.  Cullen could tell the cold was effecting her mind.  Josephine wore his mantle for a while because her gold blouse was thin.  She only returned it when he left with the rescue party, thanking him for saving her life from the blasted cold.

“I failed her, Cullen.”

Cullen glanced to his right briefly at Cassandra, before consulting the circular brass object in his right hand.  It required his bare fingers to operate properly.  When they first started, he checked it only ever so often before putting back on his glove.  Now, he did not care.  He kept his attention on it constantly, not caring if he lost fingers in the process.

“She is not lost.”  Cullen stated, beginning to walk through the knee-high snow just to the left.  “You did not fail.”

“I should have stayed with her.”  Cassandra whispered, following behind.  “Damn woman casted that flame wall to force us to leave.  I should have jumped over it and stayed.  Or dispelled it.  Why did I not think of that!?”

“She knew she could do it alone.”  Cullen remarked, partly to assure himself.  “She is strong.”

“I know Evelyn is.  Just…I-I never told her.”  The seeker sighed.  “I never told her anything.  She was right.  _You_ were right.  I regret it all.  I regret I never helped her when Divine Beatrix ordered me to investigate what happened to her.  I failed her before I even met her.”

Yet another question the commander wanted to ask Evie.  What happened all those years ago that Cassandra regretted now and resulted in her file being sealed?  He kept a mental note of each, allowing them to excite his soul to hear the answers and learn so much about the woman.

“Tell her when you see her.”  Cullen told the warrior who just hung her head in shame.

“I will.  I definitely will now.”

Solas was to Cullen’s left a few feet away, covering the left flank.  He volunteered to join them, stating he was well enough to treat any wounds she experienced in the landslide.  The apostate did not seem surprised when Cullen showed the group Evie’s phylactery.  Actually, he smiled and stated to point him in the right direction.

“Cold.  I am so cold.  Wish I hadn’t told them to go away.  Cannot think anymore.  Barely enough willpower to light the way.  Sleepy.  Snow’s like a comfy bed.  Comfy like him.”

The commander was not very thrilled when that assassin appeared with the group a bell ago.  He appeared randomly, usually about twenty feet ahead of them.  His floppy hat always hid his face he kept whispered nonsense to himself.  It was creepy.  However, he was always facing the right direction like he could see her without the phylactery.  The young man stared at the mage with such intent in Haven, wishing to be in her presence like he fed off her.

“Singing stronger.  The symphony is playing me a lullaby, like mother sang when I was afraid of the dark.  The stars.  The Veil closes in.”

It was then the glow from the phylactery dimmed again.  Cullen froze, watching as the shimmer kept lessening in his grasp.  His heart quickened as he frantically looked around.

“What is it, Commander?”  Dorian called, trying to find what caught the man’s attention.

The Tevinter mage refused to wait at camp.  He complained the entire way from Haven about the cold and his sensitive skin being dried out in the chilly air.  As soon as he heard Cullen had a way to find Evie, he gathered all the healing, lyrium, and rejuvenation potions he could find.  “The woman stole mine and probably never used a single one, the daft girl.”  He muttered, pulling his silk robes over his bare shoulder.  “I didn’t save her fine ass in the future for nothing, damn it.”

“Little blood.  I can’t get back up.  My legs won’t move.  Cannot feel them.  Fine, Rian…Esme.  You’re right.  I like him-” The assassin whispered as he kept swaying in all direction.  He whirled around as his eyes searched.  “C-can’t see!  Can’t see the Candle!”  His yelling pierced Cullen heart as the phylactery stopped pulsing.

Cullen shook it, making the blood swashed around in the red vial.  It glittered just a little.  The boy spoke again.  “Last breathes.  I will send it to the stars.  Like me.  See you on the other side.”  The boy dropped to his knees.  “Candle!  Candle!  Candle!”

The phylactery went dark.

Cullen screamed into the cold darkness.  “Eve!  Maker!  Eve!”  Cassandra must have seen the still object in his right hand because she gasped and covered her mouth.  Tears pooled in her kohl-rimmed eyes.

“Commander!”

Cullen’s attention flicked to Solas.  The elf was pointing up the ridge as a distant light.  It was so dim.  Only in the clear night sky would anyone had seen it.  The orb kept hovering upwards towards the stars.  The commander knew what it was.  He would know that orange ray of light anywhere.

“Eve!”  Cullen hollered, taking off running.  He did not know how his legs could push to through the snow so fast.  He kept slipping and falling as he dragged his weak legs through the drifts.  He crested the next hill, focusing on the straight path through the land for anything out of the ordinary.

To anyone else, Cullen believed they would miss her auburn hair, mistaking it for some dried grass, but they were her flames.  The wavy curls pulled together like flashes of red and brown in the clear night against the bright white snow.  Relief and panic overwhelmed the man senses as he tumbled forward, still grasping her dark phylactery.

The woman was on her stomach, her left hand outstretched while her right arm was tucked under her body.  Cullen slid on his boot, immediately flipping her on her back and into his lap.  Her skin was blue and ashen.  Her lips purple.  Her entire lower half of her body was soaked with blood originating from her abdomen.

“Eve!  Evelyn!”  The former templar tapped at her swollen cheeks to open her eyes.  He pulled his mantle coat open, planning on pressing her to his chest for warm, but his breastplate was covered in frost.  He ripped the coat off his person, wrapping the Herald as gently as possible.  “Open your eyes, woman!”

By then, Solas and Dorian reached him, trying to pull their patient towards them, but Cullen refused to let go.  Cassandra and the strange boy slowed their progress towards the group tending to the patient.  Cullen barely heard the boy rambling.  Whatever he was saying it was causing Cassandra to scream into her armored gloves.

“Commander!” Solas spat, looking at the man as he rocked with Evie’s lifeless body in his arms.  “We cannot save her unless you release her!”

Cullen threw him a look, his amber eyes primal and protective of the woman he held tightly.  All rational thought was beyond his reach.  “She won’t open her eyes!”

“Then let us help her!” Dorian hissed.  “Fasta vass!  Don’t make me bitch-slap you too!”

Cullen lowered Evie’s pale face from his shoulder, exposing her bloodied body to the two mages.  Both men started to examine her, their hands focusing at her sash around her waist.  Solars started to untie the fabric, immediately noticing the piece of metal sticking out of her body.  Dorian gritted his teeth like he knew something but could not put it to words.

Cullen did not watch what two mages were doing.  He just kept tapping Evie’s cheek, rubbing his left gloved thumb over his cheekbones.  He did not see her freckles.  Her cheekbones were undefined on the ashen face.  Blood dried around her chin, mixed with the frozen tears from her closed eyes.  He brushed her hair’s messy waves away her face.  Her bangs were stringy and tattered. 

Cullen kissed the lifeless face’s forehead, keeping his lips pressed against the blue, icy skin.  He squeezed his amber eyes shut as the first signs of sorrow wailed up in his forming crow’s feet.  “I know you did not have green eyes before this, but they are beautiful.  Just like your magic, your fire.  I love the fire in your eyes.”

“Please let me see them again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and hits! I am taking a week or so off before continuing this great saga. Subscribe and keep checking back!


	26. Andraste's Fire, Inquisitor's Light

I realized yesterday that some dedicated readers did not know that this saga has continued.  So, I want to invite you all to continue Evie's adventure of love and hell with [Andraste's Fire, Inquisitor's Light](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11786964/chapters/26580597), Part 2 of [The Fire In Your Eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/series/761886) Saga!  Bookmark and subscribe so you won't miss a single posting! 

"A Safe Haven" and "Andraste's Fire, Inquisitor's Light" have specialized song playlists on Spotify.  Just search the names and you will find them.  Make sure to follow them.  I update the newest playlists with each new posted chapter! 

Also, I am looking to commission some artwork for this fine saga.  If you know someone or you are interested, leave a comment!

 


	27. "Chronicles of a Dead Man"

Howdy Wonderful Readers!

As a one-year anniversary gift of posting "Fire In Your Eyes," I started a mini-series that changes just one element:  what if Rian did not go to Amaranthine City to assist recapture Anders?  How would have Evie's life changed if her brother lived?  [Chronicles of a Dead Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126710/chapters/35074505) is an alternate universe of the effects of just that one change.  Check it out!

One-Year Thank You!  Thank you for your support, comments, kudos, and love!

~thejeeperswife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy what your reading? Please answer this [survey](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/NZK9RQC) so I know what you want more of and want posted more often!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chronicles of a Dead Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126710) by [thejeeperswife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife)




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